Robophobia - Abject Judgment
by Virdu
Summary: Under the weight of many lies, war has in fear been declared by the organic civilizations against their synthetic neighbors. Will those trapped amidst the chaos, aware of the truth, be able to end the conflict? Or will it ravage the galaxy until the blight of Sol descend? (3rd Installment)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Synthetic Escapade**

Disclaimer: Neither **Mass Effect** nor **Karakuridôji Ultimo** belongs to me.

* * *

 _Three and a half months after the Port Hanshan Incident..._

 _Location_ : Noveria; Hollows; near Peak 15.

Reports of combat drizzled through the battle net like rain through forest canopies. Events that happen with such frequency that he barely even noticed most of them anymore, the general urgency veiled by weathered experience. Slow did not like to admit to having such an opinion, but he was relatively fed up with the base hostile shown so wearily often by organic beings and dearly did he wish he had at least one friendly one to exchange words with, for a change of pace.

No such luck here.

"You will die!"

The harsh flanged tone of a wounded soldier just shouted that through the battle net and out the custom omni-tools Legion had made for him. Slow barely even winced as a gunshot cut off the defiant scream, and recognized with lamentation of how wrong that felt.

He sighed sadly, "If I had a credit every time I heard that..."

"You would have thirty-six point five credits, Aspect Slow." Legion flatly told him.

"I meant in a figurative sense, Legion." Slow sighed as he browsed through the tactical assessment of the most far-away situation ongoing, "Twenty soldiers. Five Cabalists. And an IFV, of Seiri Type." he continued thoughtfully. Bad luck for the most recent drop to land so close to an entrenched position. The Consensus sent six squads, a Prime, and an Armature to recover the drop pod's contents... all of them currently pinned down.

Geth did not require his help to formulate an appropriate response, but they listened to his recommendations. Slow used this after he took a quick look on the map of local geography and what information the drones managed to recover, "Legion, there is a weak point in the defensive line by the ravine to the east. I suggest you get the Hoppers in there."

"Covering fire initiated." it imperceptibly provided a nod after a brief pause, "Hoppers redeploying."

Only a minute passed before the desired result came in. Through use of this hole on the organics' defenses, the Hoppers moved in and planted a bomb on the Seiri's undercarriage. Its explosive demise allowed the remaining squads to close in and collapse the position. Once the area was secure, the platoon hurried to recover the wares, and withdrew below ground. Another skirmish was thus concluded.

"Items recovered:" Legion reported promptly, "Sixteen platforms. Reserve parts. Power modules."

No sooner did the troops get below ground before a sphere of destruction embraced the immediate area of the surface, courtesy of an orbital kinetic strike. A bombardment they weren't able to commit to prior to the entrenched position's cessation. Normally done ten minutes after communication's lost rather than this time's five, it was a close one.

Legion followed it up with further input, "Cave ins at four separate locations. Fifty platforms cut off. Recovery in progress."

"And with the three other pickups going smoothly, and twenty firefights proceeding favorably," Slow droned on about the other such minor incursions on the surface and dismissed the haptic auras from his gauntlets with a simple flex, "it's about time for today's main item. How are the preparations for the assault going?"

"Near completion." the geth replied after a brief data-burst. Even though he was practically surrounded by its kind at all times, Legion was pretty much the only talkative one. Geth did not need Command Posts in the traditional sense. All the twenty platforms that surrounded him in this little section of Noveria's expansive network of underground caverns happened to be glorified bodyguards rather than staff. Whole reason for the geth presence being for their collective interest in forging a relationship with his people, along with an understanding of the threat represented by the kurozu... which unfortunate as it is with backup of misguided organics maintained a base in Peak 17. For the whole of these three last months they broke from one network of tunnels to the next, and edged ever closer to the station while the geth from outside the system constantly sent drop pods full of platforms and supplies to bulk up the ground-side standing forces. Most of the pods did not make it thanks to the comprehensive defenses set in place on and around Noveria by Council forces.

Throw enough pods though, and some are bound to make it through.

While not readily obvious, some ten thousand geth platforms now milled purposefully throughout the territory claimed so far. Hopefully enough to beat Peak 17 into a pile of rubble.

Nothing wrong with piling up potential additional advantages though to better guarantee victory. He had a good feeling about their detour to take Peak 15.

"Query:" Legion continued, "We are uncertain as to the gains in this venture, Aspect Slow." Once, the geth insisted on calling him 'Slow-Aspect', which to be perfectly honest sounded all too awkward, so he took pains to correct them.

Slow chuckled as he with his claws combed a little ice from his long dark blue hair, "I don't know either. Only that the secrecy about this lab is riddled with enough red tape to sink a continent."

"Given its relative proximity to Peak 17..." he continued, "that warrants investigation. I'm not going to leave any stone unturned."

It nodded its head, "Understood. Aspect Slow, before we commit: To guarantee mission success, we request for two boons to be provided."

Slow let a flicker of amusement cross him at the expression that was just two steps short of a pious request for a miracle. He flexed an arm to bring its omni-tool back up, "And you shall have it. Provide the materials and I'll see what I can do."

Legion did so, and supplied onto the omni-tool a detailed orbital image of Noveria – soaked with several hundreds of links in regard to ongoing events that the geth data-mined for his benefit. While the Council forces did reinforce their cyber-warfare suites plentifully of late, the geth could still break through like a hammer through cobweb.

In short order he picked up on the details of two particular details as he bodily thrummed with the activation of his Noh Power: Fate Manipulation. First he focused on the fates of a single small comet which orbit of sixty years currently traveled in Noveria's relative neighborhood. According to the codex, this one was a relative newcomer to the system that was picked up by the system's gravitational forces.

Within the next ten hours, its chance to impact Noveria was rated at a mere eight percent. And seventy percent within the next couple of centuries. Long enough for the local authorities to do something about it. Slow decided to nudge it along a little, though such a monumental change would require the spending of a massive amount of energy on his side.

Energy that drained from him as though sucked in by a black hole as he altered the comet's probability of striking the planet. Enough that Slow's posture faltered and he nearly fainted. It seemed fifty percent chance of impact's the best he can do from this distance without Service's assistance as an amplifier.

Slow fell to his knees, and resisted the desire to succumb to the wave of exhaustion that washed over him that instant. Instead he switched onto the next of the selected details, which involved a satellite that would soon intersect the orbit of one of the cruisers recently repositioned to look over this region. Since military matters in some matters currently superseded civilian concerns, the satellite therefore according to the information lent would see its orbit altered.

Compared to the comet, this one was utterly imminent. Thorough as they are, the geth put a time stamp on when there would be a thruster fired, thousands of kilometers distant from the cruiser itself, but minutes away with the velocities involved.

It required much less an expenditure of energy on his part, and Slow quickly altered its fate so that the satellite once it received the signal to fire the thrusters would fail to actually do so because of technical issues brought on by the satellite's relative age. And from that point, Slow watched as the satellite crossed the distance to no doubt the distress of all organics involved and impacted the cruiser before it could speed itself out of the errant satellite's way. The capital ship's kinetic barrier soaked up the brunt of this collision, but enough managed to get through to damage it.

For the next couple of days at least, its main gun would be inoperative.

"It's done." he informed, "Tell the assigned forces to take up position and wait for the next ten hours to pass before operation start."

The synthetic inclined its head, "Affirmative, Aspect Slow."

"Carry me there, would you?" Slow next requested, "I need to sleep for a while... recover my strength." and felt his consciousness slip, but found his slender form cradled in Legion's arms before finally he submerged himself into a sleep without dreams, though a random memory passed along with a small measure of longing.

After more than three months without, he truly did miss the company of other dôji.

* * *

 _Ten hours later..._

 _Location_ : Noveria; Peak 15.

To say this latest week had been less than optimal would be a grave understatement. First a containment failure that stranded what few people survived it in the hot labs, and now a comet impact. Han Olar did not even need to check what that entailed. Distant as the impact seemed to be, none of the facilities would suffer much in the way of damage thanks to solid construction and kinetic barriers... but most of the roads were doubtlessly washed away by the shock wave.

It made the possibility of rescue all the more difficult, and accordingly prolonged their stay in this place.

Like they did not have enough to worry about, what with the fear of being killed, and the twitchy guards who for the last week kept themselves up all the way by use of stims. Just one snap, and they would be even a greater danger to the lives of surviving personnel than the monsters beyond this little section they secluded themselves in.

As the only volus, a species with zero aptitude for combat, present in this facility, Han Olar felt especially vulnerable – though anything bad that happened to him would be the deserved penance for his earlier abandonment of his late colleague, who was torn to shreds before his very eyes.

His sanity without a doubt compromised, he secreted himself into a corner on the lower floor of the section and simply sat and stared into space as though in a trance. Only interrupted by the quake that the comet impact provoked.

Then an explosion happened in the next room – a glacial tunnel that lead to another lab over yonder. A strong enough blast to make the scientists he shared the space with scream, yell, and flee. All the guards currently on the upper level.

"Odd." Han Olar hummed, nonplussed, as two sets of claws tore into the door that the others fled from, to join them not even a consideration as he calmly watched, "I had no idea the bugs are that strong."

With a scream of tortured metal, the door gave away and allowed entrance to a figure distinctly different from the creatures that ran frenziedly in the hot labs. It was slender, robed, possessive of a long dark blue mane that seemed to waft gently, pale skin, and a pair of gauntlets that vanished into the sleeves of its dark robe.

"Dôji!" a scientist who had previously frozen solid in trepidation broke and dashed for the stairs, "Geth!"

Another colleague who was already halfway up the stairs cried a terrified, "We're all gonna die!"

No one could blame them. Everything that Han Olar was said that he should join them and flee in terror to avoid what seemed like inescapable death under the cold claws and guns of the synthetic menace. Han Olar however simply watched as the dôji walked serenely like it had just come out of a wonderful piece of art to the center of the room and looked over the rows of cots and dirty clothes with a distinct look of bemusement while the geth, a dozen at least, dashed through and positioned themselves at every entrance, except two who put him under their gun-sights.

Really, he should cry out. Scream up a storm.

Instead he simply stared dispassionately at the flashlight-heads in simple resignation.

* * *

Either all the facilities on Noveria held the same abysmal standards as Peak 17, or something went seriously wrong here with every outsider none the wiser. Slow was perplexed as he looked on the chamber's desolation, all the dirt and grime on wall and floor alike, and how ragged the scientists who understandably ran were. It looked more like a refugee camp than a laboratory space.

Suddenly the three other platoons that waited for his signal to penetrate the facility seemed wholly unnecessary.

"Aspect Slow." Legion called from where it had run to, "We require your presence."

Slow turned to it, and saw the volus that simply stared back at Legion and the Prime that towered over it. Interest flared and he approached with a thinly veiled smile at the opportunity that just presented itself, "Good eye, Legion... Now go and try and see if you can get something out of this place's data net."

"Affirmative." the synthetic nodded and went to one of the nearest computers and slotted a cable into a receptacle. The Prime on the other hand took up guard position as Slow waved it aside.

Now relatively alone with the volus, he crouched down in front of it. To its credit, the alien simply stared at him dispassionately. "You don't scare easily." Slow tried to break up the ice, "Is it bravery or resignation?"

It sighed, "... The latter. You here to kill me?"

"Not really." the blue-haired dôji folded his claws to illustrate the point, "We're just here to see what this place here is so secretive about."

The volus dryly shrugged, "I see."

"What's your name?"

"... Han Olar."

"My name's Slow." he introduced himself succinctly, "Care to share what's going on here, Han Olar?"

"Guess there's no more point to the secrecy." the volus wheezed, seemingly thoughtful, hard to tell with that pressure suit, "We were researching a find made recently. Some surveyor found a derelict ship from way back in the Rachni War... and inside of it, an egg."

"A Rachni egg." Slow whispered interestedly, "Did you get it to hatch or something?"

"We did." Han Olar confirmed without pride, "A Rachni Queen came out of it. We brought the Rachni back to life... In retrospect, a bad decision."

"Things went wrong."

"Very. It soon began to lay eggs. We tried to take them away from her, to experiment on her children and see if they could be safely turned into biological weapons. That according to one of the others was when all turned bad."

"Considering they were a space faring species according to the galactic codex... fully sapient, and intelligent." Slow pondered verbally, "Your mistake was treating them like animals, I take it."

"An easy mistake to make, as our current situation has proven all too well."

"Obviously." he considered and smiled, "Any idea where this Queen is?"

"Down in the hot labs." Han Olar said, "The guards tried to initiate a neutron purge, but..."

Slow nodded, "Thank you." and pointed to the stairs, "Go to your comrades, and tell them to wait five hours then leave."

The volus seemed to blink, this time in surprise.

"Legion!" Slow called as he pushed himself back up, "I need a map."

The geth's head-light flickered once as it disconnected itself from the computer, "All relevant information has been uploaded."

"Good."

Han Olar looked up at them in quiet disbelief – again, it was hard to tell. "You intend to set up the neutron purge?"

"Not at all." Slow shook his head, not quite able to subdue the his lips' upward quirk, "I intend to give her a way out of here."

* * *

 _Twelve minutes later..._

 _Location_ : Noveria; Peak 15; Tram Station.

After he let a stunned Han Olar return to his equally isolated compatriots, he led the platoon to the tram station as according to the map Legion uploaded to his omni-tool, from where they would be able to access the Hot Labs. While at it, the steady staccato of gunfire could be heard as firefights erupted sporadically elsewhere in the facility.

It turned out they found a good use for the other platoons after all.

"Status report." Slow called as he motioned to the next room just past the tram station, and found two elevators at the far end. The left-side elevator of which would take them to where they wanted to go.

"First Platoon is at the Computer Core. Attempts to reactivate station VI underway." Legion informed him, "Second Platoon is securing the Tram Controls, will attempt to activate tram once area is clear. Third Platoon, en route to Station Reactor, but faces strong resistance. Estimated breakthrough in six minutes and fifty seconds."

"Very good." Slow hummed in satisfaction as he came to stand before the elevator and pressed a button to summon the contraption, "Reportedly a Rachni Queen's very big, too big for the meager tunnels we dug into the facility. So we're going to have to use the old fashioned exit."

Legion quacked in response, "If the Queen agrees."

"When she agrees."

While the elevator was pretty sizable, only a third of the platform managed to fit in and transfer down to the floor where the neutron purge mechanism was located, which turned out to be a pretty small but open floor that overlooked an underground glacial valley that included a large set of blocks that spanned the small canyon like a bridge.

"Legion, fortify this floor." Slow ordered as he surveyed the area, "Keep the organics upstairs from going down here."

Legion cocked its head, "Affirmative."

"I'll continue on from here alone."

"Negative." the geth disagreed.

"Ain't up for debate, Legion." Slow argued mildly, "This will require some delicacy. I would like to avoid casualties as I approach the Queen, and I can't do that with you in tow."

Legion noticeably hesitated as every geth program on Noveria digested this and built up a consensus on the matter. They very clearly disliked the notion of leaving him without backup, not much unlike most minor dôji. That sort of concern was kind of cute, really.

After a few pregnant moments, the synthetic nodded, "Aspect Slow, return intact."

He smiled, "I will." before he went on to smash a huge opening through the nearest window with a hard backhand and leaped out with arms held high through it. Not once did he consider to fire up his thrusters and let gravity take him toward the laboratory blocks below, and upon arrival caved in the immediate area into a mess of crumpled metal.

Without ado, he flexed his claws and shunted them into the surface and tore enough metal aside to drop himself into the lab, which lights proved to be rather sparse after the abuse this place took during the initial outbreak. What occupied his more immediate attention though was not the damaged state of this place, but the horde of insect-like creatures that immediately homed in on him, both large ones with tentacles that terminated into claws that while clasped together seemed like thick spearheads, and small ones that scuttled across the floor to reach him without once being stepped on by their larger cousins.

While being the most alien of species he's seen so far, the Rachni in a way carried their own form of beauty. He spent a couple seconds to admire the creatures before he burst into action, took a few steps onward, and vaulted across the horde that immediately reared their heads to try and track him. Several tentacles tried to shoot up and grab him by the heels, but failed to quite reach him before he landed on the far side of them and dashed on through before they could come about.

Even with that hurdle cleared, a lot remained before him as he entered a corridor choked with the creatures that all aimed for him.

Slow smirked cheerily at the challenge, "Try to keep up!" and flexed his claws as he gathered power, "Noh Power: Full Throttle!"

Unimpressed by the gesture, the closest Rachni thrust a tentacle at his chest... only to find him gone when it arrived.

With unreal swiftness did Slow spin away from the blow and slipped past the creature, sidestepped to avoid the next attempted strike, ducked to avoid a small creature that hurled itself at his face, raised a foot so another did not run into it. Took another few steps forward and hopped over another warrior, landed softly on the warrior behind it, sprang onto the opposing wall, then with use of it as a spring board jumped to the other before he returned to the floor, moved yet further onward and performed a quick spin that deflected several attempted strikes with his gauntlets.

With use of Fate Manipulation, he gleamed the routes of least resistance and followed them as best as able. It was less a full charge than it was a dance in which every creature in this makeshift hive served as his partners. Slow avoided outright combat with the desire to keep further bloodshed to an absolute minimum as he searched. Hopefully that would convey the right signal.

For several blocks that followed, he performed without pause as though in a trance while the horde that wanted no more than to murder him tried the best they could in turn to overwhelm him. Attempts that even while he bobbed and swayed to avoid most hits the effort eventually did take some toll on him as patches of his clothes got torn or stained by green ichor where attacks did manage to land. But for the most part he managed to prevent being bogged down by the tidal waves of giant insects that persistently tried again and again to corner and pin him in place.

A resistance that grew ever more fierce as he progressed, and estimated the Queen to be somewhere close by. At this point however the Rachni increasingly forced him to apply more forceful methods, and knocked away some among the warriors as they repeatedly closed the gap, undaunted by his rate of progress.

Soon, after another block crossed, finally a frenzied warrior managed to find its mark. Slow found himself launched away as a tentacle struck his chest with every bit the strength required to run an organic through. But he was no organic and was 'merely' thrown through a window. He briefly considered the use of thrusters to return, but found that this large space included both ceiling and walls that ran all around in a large circle.

So instead he let gravity bring him all the way and neatly crouched as he touched down on the floor below, and skidded to a halt.

And was once again surrounded by Rachni. All of these even larger than the warriors that hounded his progress so far. Drones probably, given that this place upon a closer look included a field of eggs... and a massive Rachni at the center that even towered over the drones.

"You must be the Rachni Queen." Slow put on a smile and rose to his full though not considerable height with his claws closely folded into the sleeves of his kimono, similar to how he approached the volus to convey his non-violent intent, and hoped the Queen took the gesture for what it was. "I apologize for this intrusion, but I was unsure on how to otherwise contact you."

For a few seconds she merely stared at him, "What are you?"

The dôji winced at the harsh voices that together uttered those words in eerie synchronicity, and belatedly realized they came from the numerous bodies of scientists that lay along the walls. Whether dead or not, they seemed to be used as the Queen's mouthpieces somehow.

"My name is Slow, I'm a Dôji. We are what the Council species call 'synthetics' – non-organic lifeforms."

"Metal men like those above?"

"They are called Geth." Slow introduced them, suddenly aware of the very distant thuds of gunfire that went on somewhere beyond the floor he left Legion and the others in, "We joined forces recently to combat an insidious force that has taken root on this planet."

"Us?"

"Not you." Slow rejected the very notion, "Why would you even think that?"

"... Our history. Rachni history. Is one of abuse. We remember it all... for we know the memories of those who came before us." the Queen replied with a solemn storm of anger and anguish, "Those not of the Singing Planet have always sought to use us. Tools. Weapons. Animals. The protheans used us as weapons of war! And these," she gestured to the bodies, "sought to do likewise. Never again! If we must embrace the silence once again for our refusal, then so be it! We will not bow again."

He experienced a stroke of realization as he listened, "That's why you attacked the other species back then? You feared they intended to render you slaves?"

"Indeed." she hissed through the many bodies, "What guarantee do we have that you will be any different?!"

The Queen had him there. What kind of words could he use to reasonably convince her that he did not share the aliens' intentions with a history like that. She had no reason to really trust him. Still, he attempted to endeavor to provide a sufficiently compelling answer to her query. One that did not quite make it before the place shuddered.

* * *

 _Location_ : Noveria; Peak 15; Hot Labs; Top Sub-level.

As instructed, the geth platoon fortified the floor as much as the number of platforms allowed. Sufficient for the amount of space to frustrate any effort to reach the room in the rear that held the hot labs' fail-safe, the Neutron Purge. Slow entrusted its defense to them, and to their utmost ability it would be defended accordingly to fit the responsibility.

With the constant exchange of intelligence between the platoons spread throughout the facility, the geth were as confident as non-feeling organics could be. They were ready for anything so to speak.

Anything but what came along next as an object abruptly smashed its way into the facility from somewhere above. No geth knew what it was, only that it's large and burrowed through the floors fast like fish through water. It was too fast for any unit to intercept, and broke through to the hot labs in short order.

Ultimately the geth could only watch as it alongside many tons of debris it had liberated from the facility and glacier proper plunged toward the laboratory blocks below, utterly helpless in their ability to stop it.

* * *

 _Location_ : Noveria; Peak 15; Hot Labs; Rachni Hive.

Centuries of experience told Slow what was about to happen. An all too localized quake followed by steep silence – broken only by the anticipative shrieks of many warriors – that shattered into outright pandemonium as something huge crashed into the laboratory blocks with enough momentum to mildly bend the place, followed by a robotic cry so deep and terrible it instilled a primal fear into many of the Rachni present.

Slow recognized its like all too well and grimly spread his claws.

It had landed in the adjacent lab, and the wall that separated them broke and was torn away like so many single sheets of paper as the intruder forced its way through. At first what emerged seemed to be little more than a matte black orb, until it unfolded itself like a hedgehog and with powerful legs stood up in full as a giant warrior twenty feet in height, its outer shell arrayed as curved shields that slid aside to reveal a mass of arms that bristled with makeshift weaponry like drills and savage saws. Its stout head with nine optics that all flickered out of turn gazed at those assembled before it and rumbled with clear menace.

One of the Kurozu's powerful Avatars... Deus ex Machina.

* * *

 **Author notes:** Finally it's here, the third entry to the Robophobia Saga. Sorry it took so long, but I had to redo the starting chapters three times to find the start I felt satisfied with.

Now onto the chapter. I debated on whether to start with how things are progressing on Noveria, and decided to include the Rachni into the mix, with a slightly altered backstory for them... which proved easy enough. Considering all the times they ended up being used by outside forces in the games, one could say Rachni History truly is one of repeated abuse. So to make sure it never happened again, they fought to the death during the Rachni War rather than submit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Weight of Responsibility**

* * *

 _Location_ : Noveria; Peak 15; Hot Labs; Rachni Hive.

Deus ex Machina. If there is one area where the kurozu invests on quality, this is it. They serve as the Avatars of the collective of Industrialist and Militaristic AI that betrayed humanity to their death so long ago, so they may provide a personal touch to the slaughter that the million-strong swarms of disposable drones can not.

But while universally powerful, there are certain limits that depend on manner of construction and materials involved. Simply put they can be divided into a number of letter-based categories, from the mass produced D and C classes, to the higher quality B and A classes. After that is the mighty S class... and come to think of it; the mythical P class – the lattermost which exist for only one purpose: To counter Milieu.

Which of these this Deus ex Machina constitutes was uncertain, but it left no time for such consideration with a hesitation that was effectively nil. Indomitable and single-minded in its purpose, the giant strode onward and fixed its many optics on the Rachni Queen... and thrust a drill-tipped appendage with every intention to immediately eviscerate the creature.

It closed the gap in nearly an instant, far faster than the Queen could ever hope to dodge, poised to close shut the book to Rachni history for the last time.

And failed as a much slighter figure than both of them threw itself between them and backhanded the appendage clear of its target, the drill mounted on it reduced to a mess of twisted scrap.

"I'd ask you a few questions of how you learned of what's going on here..." Slow hissed, his anger white-hot much like his thrusters as he hovered between the two, "if I did not already know it to be a wasted effort."

"Dôji, so far away from your despicable people. So desperate for companions you befriend even this vile creature, so insolent in its return from glorious nothingness." the kurozu maliciously mocked as it glowered down at him, "Abandon these worthless creatures, and you may yet find your loneliness allayed under our tender care."

No doubt that involved him being strapped to a table and carved open by dead-eyed scientists in yet another attempt to gleam at the science used in his construction. "How generous of you..." the Aspect huffed sarcastically while he raised his arms and solemnly replied as he gathered power, his claws tingling at the prospect of an entirely unambiguous battle with the archenemy of his people, "But... I got a better idea: How about I help pick that monster you clothed yourself in to pieces?"

"Foolish, pitiful dôji." it let loose a malevolent laugh that sounded like the grinding of gears, "This avatar far exceeds-"

"Karakuri Henge:" Slow cut it off as his left-hand gauntlet reconfigured radically into a stylized deer's head, its mouth wide agape, "Deer's Hollow!" and discharged a compressed ball of air, delivered with such force that a section of its rounded shields was crumpled, the chest armor sank inward, and the whole much larger machine was launched off its feet and into the air just far enough to be completely clear of the laboratory blocks before gravity decided for it to fall again. It brought enough a forceful stop to its tirade that its final syllable sounded much like a cough.

Strangely though, it landed this time far more lightly, with much less damage to its environment. "Oh great." Slow muttered, "It's got an element zero core."

Nevertheless, his action caused a stunned silence to descend on the area.

"We need an answer." several voices croaked as the Queen came to loom over him from behind, remarkably composed for one who was a hair's breadth from death moments ago, "You intervened on our behalf, yet the motives remain suspect. What are your intentions? Why did you come here if not to use us?"

"Not much to say for starters." Slow sighed, his gaze fixed on where the kurozu had flown. Seeing as the kurozu did not come any closer, likely to make him come to it, he guessed there was time to elaborate: "... When we came here, it was simply to investigate – given the secrecy of this place. For instance it would not do if the kurozu established a secret base away from Peak 17."

The Queen said nothing, and prompted with neither words nor gesture for him to continue.

"Instead we found out about you." he said, his tone so soft it was almost inaudible, "A species revived, but doomed to die again if the current status quo doesn't change."

"... Why would you care?" she asked, "The Rachni are not of your people."

"Extinction is a tragedy without measure. A tragedy that won't happen again if I have anything to say about it..." Slow stated grimly, his gauntlets quivering as images of a civilization rendered into utter ruin came to mind. "Tell me, Queen of the Rachni..." he cast a sad sidelong glance her way, "Is it wrong to simply want you to live?"

The Queen seemed a bit taken aback – though he could not know for sure. By her very nature as a giant insect, she was utterly inscrutable. "Altruism, such that it seem too good to be true. Is there truly no ulterior motive?" the many voices asked in apparent befuddlement.

Slow began to pace onward, "Most importantly, we wanted to save you. But since you ask: I'd love to have you for an ally, to help dismantle the kurozu forces on this world."

"So you _do_ seek to utilize us?"

It was both a question and a statement of fact, but devoid of any accusatory undertones – instead consideration colored the plethora of voices.

A shrug, "As equals, not master and slave. But ultimately, whether you choose to join us or leave this world for another to rebuild in peace, I'll respect your decision and leave it at that."

"Now if you excuse me..." he flexed his claws, "I got to go take out the trash."

He left the Queen alone with her thoughts and leaped onto the roof to confront the Deus ex Machina that for all the while had been completely silent... until now. The giant was no less than seventy feet distant with a knee against the roof, all of its attention focused solidly on him. It took no more than a second for battle to be joined.

Slow narrowed his eyes at a coiled limb with something akin to a chainsaw for head held to a state of extreme tightness before it was shot at him, aimed directly at his head. He reflexively tilted his whole upper body away rather than test the weapon, and watched as it flew past before he dug his feet into the metal and while the enemy's limb remained extended lowered his posture and charged the much larger synthetic with every intention to break it while the opening in its defenses remained.

"I am Sovereign." the AI in control of the Deus ex Machina boomed as he closed the gap, "You will submit."

Several more limbs – all equipped with claws and pincers – were unfurled from hidden compartments and launched across a wide arc, from where they changed trajectory and homed in on him. While at it, Sovereign started to withdraw the saw-arm.

Slow's eyes darted to and fro to take all these threats in before he acted, somersaulted to dodge a particularly viscous set of pincers, span, and grabbed the saw-arm which he then severed clean at its seventeenth joint and used the couple seconds worth of energy that remained to the saw blade as he span again to cut clean off five of the other limbs as they attempted to seize him. Finally he discarded the severed limb and sprinted through the opening he had made.

In less than two heartbeats he closed the remaining distance, and applied his Deer's Hollow – charged up to unleash sound energy this time around – to its gut at point blank range almost from below it. A howl shattered the air, both the bark of his weapon and the enraged cry of the AI as the Deus ex Machina was launched off its feet again, all balance lost, with a giant hole blown through its chest.

During the little pause that brought, the Aspect looked a the machine's innards and drew a conclusion. This new model of Deus ex Machina did not carry its core in the chest, and there seemed to be at least two more supporting spines. Their fight, which by then had barely spanned eleven seconds, was not yet over.

Further limbs sprouted from below its large shields and speared down toward him at no less than the speed of sound.

Slow bent backward and swayed from where all the attacks converged before he reached out and tore off the nearest limb – one armed with a pile bunker – just in time to see a large-barreled weapon appear from the giant's shoulder, aimed down at him as it growled with a gain of power in preparation for its payload to be set loose.

That delay cost it.

Deftly he flipped round the pile bunker weapon he had taken away and thrust it into the cannon, which turned out to be a perfect fit. Sovereign turned its avatar's head and stared at the useless appendage that was stuck in the barrel and howled in the knowing of what would happen next as the cannon finished its charge... but with nowhere for the energy to go.

Slow was knocked back quite a distance by the resulting shock wave as the giant's shoulder violently exploded and sent hundreds of pounds worth of wreckage including three of its shields to the ground. The Deus ex Machina reeled from the blow and stumbled awkwardly, now much more bottom-heavy as it once again found the flimsy ground again.

"What was it supposed to exceed, Sovereign?" Slow asked wryly as he picked himself back up from where he had rolled to a stop and brushed pieces of errant metal from his clothing.

"Silence..." Sovereign growled as it flexed the machine's remaining arms and erected from their sockets those the remaining quartet of shields were mounted on, then parted those metallic barriers to form massively oversized digits, while what remained of the far more spindly limbs coiled around the larger ones to strengthen them – or provide a makeshift ablative armor.

Unfortunately for it, no sooner did this reconfiguration take place before it rocked under the force of multiple impacts and countless smaller ones that for all the effort put in did little more than sting it. Slow turned his gaze to the floor far above them and smiled, "Tired of waiting, huh?"

From the windows up there, every geth trained their guns on the Deus ex Machina and piled on it a steady deluge of AP rounds and grenades. Under this barrage, Sovereign could only sputter impotently as its avatar was gradually chipped into pieces, yet determined to still fight as it directed its attention on Slow and trundled toward him.

He sighed as a strange song filled the air besides the gunfire, "Just retire already. Without backup that C-class mockup just won't cut it."

However, that did not mean it was wholly subpar. Without him and the geth here, this Deus ex Machina could have managed to clean out this whole facility effortlessly.

Damaged as it was, and the AI blinded by its fury, a large enough opening existed that it soon was brought to a screeching halt as from every opening in the roof, from every nook and cranny, there rushed in a swarm of angry Rachni – all of whom once within range coated its leg-assemblies with corrosive acid that entered and sizzled into its more vulnerable innards through the puncture holes made by the geth's stubbornly delivered fire support. Given this development, it was time for the killing blow.

"Damnable bea-" the AI howled as it tried to lash out at the nearest warriors, to kill them as painfully as possible, only to see the arm blown off in the middle of its transition by a grenade, "Grah!"

"Karakuri Henge:" Slow ignored its curses as he had his Deer's Hollow altered. It was augmented, made larger yet more compact, more aggressive in its design, "Crown of the Deer."

* * *

Too caught up in its compulsion to slaughter, and the boundless fury born from the frustration of losing control. Its offensive and defensive capabilities had been curtailed, and mobility died as it was assailed from additional fronts. The defeat of this avatar was imminent. Sovereign was all too aware of that.

It just did not know precisely how imminent it was... until it heard the dôji's voice amidst the cacophony. To delay it, the Deus ex Machina was turned about... only to find the diminutive being absent from where it last were.

Until it caught movement, just inches above the avatar's head.

"Dance of the Deer!"

What followed was an immediate loss of connection a thunderous punch connected from directly above, and caved the Deus ex Machina's head into its abdomen.

* * *

Slow watched from where he hovered as Sovereign's newest platform collapsed in a cloud of shattered wires and polymer from the blow he just dealt it like a house of cards. Its innards now a complete mess, the main body so ruined that the limbs nearly fell away – and revealed the element zero core was in what passed for its left shoulder. Without the mass reduction brought by the core, the Deus ex Machina remains sank heavily into the superstructure, which gave away much like a pond of mud would under its colossal bulk.

There was no victory cheer about it, only silent appraisal.

"Aspect Slow." Legion's voice rang out from seemingly nowhere, "Status?"

He brought up the omni-tool on his right-hand gauntlet with a flex of his elbow, "Just a couple of scratches." he replied, "I'll be alright."

"Has a settlement been reached?"

"I'm about to check." Slow said absently as he angled his gaze down, and found the Queen now close to where the kurozu had fallen, surrounded by a protective screen of drones and a carpet of those tiny bugs that carried along a single scientist's body. "One moment."

With grace and his Karakuri Henge quickly undone, he dropped himself onto the machine's head – the crumpled mess of what was left of it – and attended to the Queen with a smile and began tactfully, "Thanks for the assist."

"... You're welcome." the Queen through that lone body responded haltingly, "Now we continue."

"I take it you've made a decision."

"Close, but we desire to know. While we are intrigued by the prospect of being treated as equal by an alien intelligence for the first time in memory, we must know what is in it for us, to resist those fiends, these 'kurozu', rather than leave and hide from further conflict."

"Fair enough." Slow again folded his claws into the sleeves, "Not to put a damper on it, but the kurozu's ultimate goal is to destroy everything. So while you can guarantee short-term survival through hiding yourself, if those who fight the kurozu fail... you'll be alone when they finally, eventually, find you."

"We see... How many struggle against them currently?"

"Currently just dôji and geth. I guess the Council species counts to a degree, but they are being much less than helpful in their current manner... squandering resources on attacking us rather than those who actually wants to wipe them out."

"So you are pressed for allies."

"We can still possibly win if you choose to go and hide, but the more allies we have..."

"... The greater the guarantee for victory." the Queen added.

"Aptly put." Slow nodded slowly, "You don't need to stay, but it would be appreciated."

"Fear not for our refusal." she rumbled with finality, her decision reached, "The Rachni shall fight."

The dôji let out a sigh of relief, delighted, "I, we, thank you, Queen of the Rachni. You are most welcome."

It seemed to nod, "But you must offer protection. If they have not already, with our reappearance the Council will unleash their krogan swarms."

"We'll make sure of your safety." he grimaced inwardly, uncomfortable with what he gleamed from information on the Krogan Rebellions, "But for now we best get moving. The geth should be finished setting up an escape route for your hive by now."

"Affirmative." belched Legion's voice from the omni-tool, "We are ready to provide escort on your mark."

"Very well." the scientist's body wheezed in a way that made the dôji mildly wince, as though the connection between it and the Queen grew distant.

He picked up on this and grew curious, "Something wrong?"

"No... In truth, when we awoke from the silence... we were resigned to fade away once more. That a glimmer of hope would come, to allow us to compose anew... never occurred to us. How very strange the melody of fate is."

At that, Slow, privately amused by virtue of being the weaver of fate, could not help but put up a big grin. The Queen seemed not notice as she sang for her hive to prepare and embark on the great migration ahead. And for the umpteenth time he wished there was another dôji here, with whom he could share moments like this. But, strange as it may sound, he wasn't that lucky.

* * *

 _Five hours later..._

 _Location_ : Noveria; Hollows.

While the escape route provided by the geth was relatively short, the migration of an entire hive made sure the move took several torturously long hours to complete in a situation where even ten minutes could be considered an eternity. Yet against all odds it managed to pass unhindered thanks in no small part to the measures taken before the mission, among other things.

"Query."

Slow looked up at the versatile platform he had gotten the most familiar with and smiled as the cacophony of the uprooted hive moving further into the tunnel network alongside a contingent of geth assigned to their protection to find a suitable place to set up a new nest died down. Legion had spoken up with a notification that would soon if he was not mistaken be followed by a question. "Yes?" the dôji encouraged.

"After the kurozu attack we calculated a ninety percent possibility of orbital bombardment to take place within an hour." Legion continued, its voice while flat managed to make the implied disbelief all the louder, "Yet in all of five hours and eleven minutes we tracked the battle net, we found no request nor demand for a strike mission. Did you provide us an additional boon?"

"I can understand why you think that." Slow folded arms against his chest, "But I did in fact not perform any large scale probability alterations aside from the two boons you requested."

"Then how?"

He smirked, "Why, is the reason not obvious enough for you?" and playfully teased, "It's a simple yet complicated matter that require no intervention on my part. For starters, recap for me about Noveria's settlement."

"Item: Noveria. A frozen terrestrial planet chartered by the Noveria Development Corporation, who lease out labs to perform research too dangerous or controversial to be performed elsewhere."

"Good. Put simply this world submits to corporate and private interests. Now, how would you rate the bureaucratic shit-storm that would come from ordering an orbital strike on a top secret lab that already fly the flag of a corporation out of the blue?"

"Unfavorable. Desolas-General could still justify it."

"No doubt, but then Binary Helix would question how in the world Desolas had eyes in their facility, and for how long." Slow pointed out and chuckled mildly, "Spies, sabotage. Very serious breaches of the code of conduct laid out by the NDZ. They would have revoked his rental of Peak 17 and thrown him off the planet, which would have left his schemes exposed in front of the whole galaxy. Tell me Legion, with that kind of situation on hand... what choice did he have?"

"Only one." the geth clicked, finally getting, "To not raise an alarm."

"Correct."

Legion nodded, "Understood."

"Glad you do." the Aspect replied in kind and flexed his claws, "Now if you don't mind, I think it's time for a break. Have you data-mined the daily dose of the Extra Net for me?"

"Yes. It has been uploaded to your omni-tool for perusal."

"Nice~" Slow breathed appreciatively as he opened the left-hand omni-tool and found in the mail a hefty list of news, much to his private glee. So devoid of creature comforts with at least a month since the last meal, the galaxy's equivalent of newspapers is one of his very few distractions from work. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." it intoned.

Intent on his break he turned and wandered further into the bustling cavern they are currently in and found near the opposing wall a suitable stone on which to sit. Legion as part of his retinue simply followed him. An action Slow did not comment on as he sat his slender form onto the hard and cold spot that nevertheless provided the closest thing to a backrest for him to lean on.

Naturally the headlines featured the comet impact he inflicted, quoted by experts to as a freak incident. The damages on facilities within range were somewhat extensive, but thanks to well-equipped shelters the casualties were low. On site Council forces are predicted to busy themselves with aiding the NDZ for at least the next four days. "Sorry about that." Slow sighed quietly, "If only you understood what we're trying to prevent."

Legion cocked its head, "Aspect Slow?"

He wiped his eyes and said softly, "Nothing. It's nothing." before he closed the article and looked for something else. That was when he gleamed an article named as 'The War Continues'. Hardly the most thought-provoking title, but it was the contents that astounded him. Until now the action on the Dôji Front had been tight-lipped, and he thought it would remain so.

Until now.

With a tentative press of a claw he opened the link and found an image of a huge station surrounded by elements of a colossal fleet in its orbit located in what the Council called the Atapo System which relay lead to the so-called Dôji-Occupied Hjesanin Cluster. "Legion, what is that?" he pointed at the station.

It inclined to examine the image and paused, "A Hierarchy Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station."

"Quite a mouthful." he wryly remarked, "How long does it take to build something like that?"

"Given no delays: Two weeks." Legion shrugged, "Sephraic Stations were designed specifically for ease of construction through assembly of pre-constructed modules on site to quickly provide support in the case of a difficult campaign far from more permanent bases."

"A sort of Mulberry Harbour, huh..." Slow commented, and noted the other synthetic's blank look – which was a pretty astounding feat in its own right, "Something out of Human History, Legion."

The article included a brief interview of one General Adrien Victus, the assigned leader of an assembly of nine thousand warships collectively referred to as the Sword Armada. An astounding number rendered somewhat moot due to limitations of Mass Relays that can only transfer so many ships at once, and requires those who jumped to clear the way for subsequent waves. Rendered further difficult because of something about the opposite relay having been repositioned in orbit round the planet they designated H-1-4, then blockaded by anti-orbital batteries on the planet surface, and a large 'Dôji Fleet'. A thick debris field of wreckage built up from several previous battles and settled into orbit round the relay did not make things any easier for them.

Hence the Sephraic's presence.

"My people are fighting." Slow breathlessly whispered, and was immensely pleased with the subsequent image provided. A picture of Ultimo as he hovered amidst the remains of a turian cruiser, and whose eyes appeared very expressive in his sadness. Still, Slow could not help but smile at how beautiful the flame-haired dôji appeared... A real feast for the eyes.

And eye candy was for him far between nowadays, so he took special care to save the image.

If his mood was in any way down prior to the break, it just improved dramatically. Slow reclined further for a moment and let the inner warmth he felt knowing where his people are and that they are doing well under the circumstances wash over him. He missed everyone so very dearly, but was separated by a distance that might just as well be half the universe and his current duty. He could not go home before the kurozu and their pet General's schemes here are brought to ruin.

That in mind, Slow closed the mail and stood to stretch his limbs. "Knowing all of that, I'm too excited to just sit around here." he quietly chuckled, "Legion, how goes the digging?"

Nonplussed, as usual, Legion's reply was prompt, "Breakthrough to the next subterranean section is projected to take place within the next four hours."

"Hm, that doesn't match up with the number from before our mission in Peak 15." he hummed, it should have nearly finished by now, "Has there been a complication?"

"Yes. The tunnel caved in on the excavation laser. Work to clear the area and make repairs are underway."

And there he found the place to work out the additional energy he just worked up. Slow applied the back of the gauntlets to his hips and smiled challengingly, "Let's see if we can shorten that time, shall we?" before he turned and sauntered on with clear intent. And Legion while puzzled as a logic-driven being could be at such eccentricity followed without comment.

 _Don't let up, guys. I sure won't!_

* * *

 _Two weeks and three days after First Battle for Nirvana..._

 _Location_ : Utopia System (H-1 System by Council); above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; Asura-Class Frigate "Ontonon"

While seemingly at rest, the _Ontonon_ was filled with nervous energy courtesy of its young crew almost right out of training as it lingered in the shadow of a turian Arakan-Class Cruiser, one among a veritable graveyard of nine hundred something warships that lazily orbited the local relay. Enough piled up that the more callous of dôji tended to call this the Scrapyard. Since the first incursion that took place more than two weeks ago, several more major battles took place even as the aliens built up that big base next doors.

While it was in a wholly different system, the connection offered by the mass relays made the distance involved entirely moot.

Thankfully due to the relays' recently discovered limitations the still nascent Dôji Navy managed to hold the line in spite of being vastly outnumbered. And each successively repelled attack in turn cluttered the relay's relative vicinity sufficiently to make it a navigational hazard.

For larger ships, that is.

Jealousy, the Aspect of Envy, scowled mildly at the crew of this here ship he had chosen to accompany in this sortie, some regret plain in mind. Only the Com Dôji, Elaz, being a Son of Regula, maintained the proper calm and discipline needed right now. The rest... not so much. Not the Helmsman, who nervously writhed boredly where he lay, partially merged into the ship's control systems. Not the overly confident Commander. Not the similarly trigger happy Gunner, not the nervous Technician.

He listened as Elaz hissed at the Helmsman who just arced his luscious back impatiently.

It was easy to wonder who was really the CO on this ship. Jealousy lamented his choice to board this rather than the almost sickeningly adorably-named frigate _Snoopy_ that hung silently two miles distant behind another length of wreckage, whose crew while being mostly composed of Sons of Service – who wouldn't look out of place in a meadow writing poetry about flowers and sunshine – appeared far more able in keeping their cool.

Jealousy shook his head and focused on the display as amidst the wreckage relay-ward there drifted quietly one of three flotillas of small and rounded Dennar-Class frigates, escorted by a score of Aleida-Class fighters that looked positively dainty and made their own Kalki seem burly.

"Salarians. Asari." he muttered his observation.

Elaz nodded briefly, an Engrave apparently dispatched and received though he did not order it, "Ultimo agrees with your assessment."

The Gunner hummed as he sat upright in his seat and eyed the targeting interface that dominated his view, "Does it change anything?"

"Not at all." Jealousy said strictly, "Wait until the signal."

"No way..." the Helmsman sighed.

"Quiet."

Jealousy continued to observe as an alien frigate settled above what remained of a dreadnought and had its airlock open, from where a wary bunch of bipeds in spacesuits with something big between them left and descended on the wreck. A fusion bomb. This whole scrapyard essentially forced the aliens to abort further major assaults, and sent instead flotillas to carefully diminish it into fragments their kinetic barriers can better handle.

Further above it, two of the dainty asari fighters bobbed past and veered to the right, incidentally in the direction of the 12th flotilla. Aside from the _Ontonon_ and _Snoopy_ , the 5th flotilla that Jealousy presided over in this sortie included two more frigates and fifteen Kalki – the latter of whom hung further back. Alongside them there are two more flotillas, identical in number. Everyone hidden just out of sight of the enemy.

Suddenly the fighters' lazy orbit round their charge stiffened.

"Someone just powered up." Elaz confirmed Jealousy's most immediate suspicion, "It's the _Cain_ , 12th flotilla."

The Aspect of Envy sighed frustratedly, "No choice but to engage. Give our fighters the order to commence." Up ahead, the organic team hurried back onto their frigate, fusion bomb still in tow, while the rest of the flotilla turned to engage the unit they just detected.

"Aye." the minor dôji replied and pressed a single button on his console to alert their fighter contingent that it's time to begin. In unison, the lead pair of Kalki pulled out from their hiding places. Knight One launched one after another a trio of missiles toward the closer of the asari units, which thanks to its pilot's quick reflexes dodged the first... but got winged by the second munition, then turned into a miniature sun when the third hit it head on. Knight Two followed up with a well-aimed salvo from its mass accelerators at the downed fighter's comrade who tried to home in on them, only to instead fold into itself as the twin bullets gutted it.

Each of the other fighters came out of the woodwork and raced onward to engage the flotilla's fighter escort, the vacuum between them quickly riddled with mass accelerator rounds and guided munitions as their Council counterparts responded with gusto. Naturally the flotilla turned on their point defenses to assist.

"Our turn." Jealousy continued tersely.

As one, the 5th flotilla powered up and from a cold start emerged. With satisfactory skill, the Helmsman brought the _Ontonon_ out and about while the Gunner prepared a firing solution, and proceeded with a whoop to fire their main gun at the nearest enemy frigate, which staggered as its kinetic barriers fizzled out from the hit, followed by a second that put a hole through its center mass. Unable to withstand this punishment, the alien ship broke apart.

Other lights flashed much further into the distance as the other wolf packs engaged their own targets. The skirmish was on, and in spite of the _Cain's_ mistake their ambush seemed largely successful. So Jealousy for the moment left the crew to its own devices and closed his eyes as he settled into a more or less meditative state.

 _Noh Power: Heart Reading._

And clear as day, he became aware of every decision about to be made by the people around him – including the distant organic crews. He read them like open books, and knew a fighter that just managed to get below was about to let loose on them, "Turn left, sharply."

While young and of the raucous sort, the Helmsman reacted immediately and narrowly dodged the trio of mass accelerator rounds... followed in turn by a short-lived ball of fire as the Gunner ended the source of immediate danger with a burst from the _Ontonon's_ GARDIAN array.

So far, so good.

Jealousy listened idly at the reports made, but made no comment except to issue alerts when something unfavorable was about to happen. At a point, the five Aleida that remained after the initial exchange split up and engaged to allow their remaining charges to retreat. Three rushed the Kalki in a show of overt recklessness, while the two others swung around to flank and slash on through. A subsequent warning made sure they did not take the bait.

Within a further minute, the remaining fighters were mopped up... followed by the flotilla's final Dennar, disabled as the _Snoopy_ put a round through its thrusters. On their end, the skirmish was done. Now to handle the aftermath.

* * *

 _Two minutes later..._

 _Location_ : Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; Relay.

With mildly forced calm, Ultimo from where he sat atop of the relay's quantum shield watched the distant skirmish in much the manner of a lion watching its cubs make their first kill – though with more an emphasis on skill and execution rather than the inevitable lethality. Much like when their civilization started out and the number of minor dôji swelled.

While they weathered the previous battles aptly, it was more due to staggering defensive advantages than outright competence. As a whole, the Dôji Nation remained inexperienced in terms of space warfare, and needed every opportunity to train themselves even if it meant to partake in life and death struggle. More importantly, they needed the time to build up their standing forces. In this, these skirmishes to prevent elements of the Council Sword Armada from clearing the clutter in preparation for another great offensive helped, on both counts.

So to allow the former and ensure the latter, Ultimo hung back... but unless circumstances demanded it did not get himself involved. They at least had Jealousy for support, so he needed not worry if things turned sour.

"Looks like things are going smoothly." Jin commented as he hovered into the periphery of Ultimo's vision.

Voices do not carry through the void, but lip reading remained a thing. "The _Cain_ started up prematurely and almost gave them all away. Otherwise the ambush went well."

"Of course, my lord." the com dôji who has served Vice and the other Grand Aspects for nearly a century nodded his agreement, then blinked distractedly, "An engrave just came in. It's the 23rd flotilla. A salarian Dennar frigate managed to slip from the skirmish. Too distant now to pursue."

"How many bombs?" Ultimo inquired. While he watched from the moment those flotillas entered, the poorness of line of sight in this place more than likely made sure he missed a few drop-offs.

Jin was prompt, "Seven. One of the drop-offs took place at a dreadnought."

Given the yield of those fusion bombs, able to both destroy their targets and scatter surrounding wreckage, the organics wouldn't trigger them to blow until they've cleared the area entirely by way of jumping through the relay. Some would wonder why the organics did not simply bomb those wrecks closest to the relay, but a few bombs place strategically would clear more of the cluttered field than a hundred bombs elsewhere.

Ultimo directed his gaze in the 23rd's general direction, "Where is it?"

"Hm." the taller minor dôji cocked his head as he sent and received another engrave... complete with relative coordinates, "There... right there." he gave the direction.

Not the most exact science, but Ultimo found the Dennar. As can be attested to the nature and experience of its salarian crew, they had the ship move very swiftly yet very nimbly through the field of wreckage like they were born here and knew every corner, with aptitude every dôji crew wished they had.

While it came at a heavy cost, their escape was almost virtually guaranteed.

Almost.

Ultimo had until then kept himself powered down to avoid detection, and shivered as he removed every restraint and his energy signature lit on the Dennar's sensor array like a small star just ignited above the relay. Startled by the sudden development, its crew veered their ride away in expectation of imminent attack. A supremely logical move under the circumstances but ultimately futile.

 _Noh Power: Time/Space Manipulation..._

In this instance, he did not even bother to take flight. All he did to close the distance was to spatially transfer himself onto the Dennar's hull where he got momentarily hit by the shift of gravity before he shoved his claws through the hull to properly anchor himself then planted his other palm down with a very specific plan of action.

"Time Destruction."

Fear probably grew overly abundant on board as his Noh produced the desired effect. Ultimo vastly sped up the ship's time itself but without affecting its crew. Hull integrity failed, circuitry shorted out, color blotched, faded, and no matter the newness every component turned rusty and failed. Within a few heartbeats the ships turned several centuries old, so by the time Ultimo withdrew, the Dennar's engines had sputtered and died.

Now devoid of thrust and all means to maneuver, he needed only eliminate its momentum and flipped fully onto his gauntlets as the ship nosed down and fired his thrusters carefully up so not to suddenly break the ship in twain until he got just enough of a counter-thrust to finally halt the machine – in spite of the considerable difference in mass.

Ultimo withdrew his claws and transferred himself into the ship proper in a burst of light that momentarily made its crew cover their eyes that turned wide, horrified, when the light faded and revealed the flame-haired dôji among them. "Only ten, huh." he observed in a curious but benign manner while every armed salarian pulled their guns on him, each quick to spread to give one another a clear field of fire.

Without hesitation, the one who appeared to be the Captain pulled the trigger, but froze solid alongside his subordinates as Ultimo raised a palm and brought their time to a screeching halt: "Time Stop."

To the helmsman's credit, he managed to get a shot off, though even the eezo-wreathed round stopped before it even managed to climb a foot off the barrel. Ultimo looked on them, then went ahead and conjured a spatial ball, from which Jin emerged a moment later. "Swiftly done, my lord." the com dôji bowed, "I've already made the call. The _Ontonon_ will be here within ten minutes."

"Jealousy, huh." Ultimo thought of the Aspect on board it, "Aptly done, Jin. What's the general status?"

"We got thirteen pilots wounded, the Kalki of four of these were destroyed... while the rest are currently undergoing field repair. The _Nielsen_ of 23rd flotilla sustained heavy damage, but other than a few scratches its crew suffered no loss. On the other side, including these here, we've captured forty organics... asari, salarians, one elcor."

"When you phrase it like that, it sounds like a shopping list."

"Apologies." Jin nodded, "Norto had in mind to elaborate."

"It's fine." Ultimo chuckled, "Any response from the relay?"

"None. All available ships and fighters have taken up position. If the aliens try to send reinforcements, we-" the taller dôji paused, "One probe just came through – ah!" and yelped as a slug suddenly impacted his shoulder hard enough to spin him around, and leave a cracked mark on his skin.

From seemingly nowhere another salarian had sprung out and hefted a large pistol at them. One that seemed a great deal heavier than those the others carried. A weapons upgrade? Ultimo reacted immediately and with a good grab threw Jin to the floor and took himself to the fore just in time for a second shot to be triggered. With it the salarian threw himself onward.

Ultimo weathered the shot to his chest without a scratch, though it did make him briefly double over in his unpreparedness for the slug's weight, and watched from the corner of his green and red eyes as the alien sprang to the side to slip past them.

Was it to throw out a call for aid?

To set off the fusion bombs they planted?

Both?

Either way the alien operative had to be stopped. "Time Speed." Ultimo utilized his Noh and blurred back upright for just the moment the approach brought them within inches of one another in this narrow bridge. Their eyes locked very briefly.

That instant was all the time he needed to grab the gun by its barrel and crumpled it with a good squeeze while he at the same time seized it by the collar and threw the operative to the opposite wall a little harder than was necessary. "Gah!" the salarian managed to croak before he fell, unconscious.

He followed it up with another application of Time Stop before he turned back to the prone Jin who clutched his damaged shoulder tightly and settled down on the knees to look over his comrade worriedly, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no problem." Jin coughed, pained yet still worked up a more or less business-like manner, "More importantly, the probe's destroyed courtesy of the 12th's _Talos_."

"Keep it that way." he nodded, allowing the bravado, "Come, get up. Surely you don't want to not look presentable when Vice comes to take the next shift."

The com dôji's face reddened ever so slightly, "H-how do you know?"

Ultimo only gave the flustered dôji a puckish smile for an answer as he pulled himself up and with both gauntlets interlocked behind his back took to wander over to the cockpit and gaze through the window, glad to unload stress however little with such exchange of words. He knew for a long while that Vice saw Jin as his favorite com dôji, and that Jin reciprocated though a little differently.

A vista of dead hulls however banished the small lighthearted moment. War remained the reality as it has been for ages. Will there ever be peace, or would they continue to fight forever? Ultimo shook off the grim rumination and resignedly turned away.

* * *

 _Thirty-five minutes later..._

 _Location_ : Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; Private Cabin.

When all of this started out, he was confident and with both dignity and honor accepted his responsibility to lead. He thought that with his wit and skill, victory would only be a matter of time. Yet after weeks of failure he now walked the halls of the _Endless Vigil_ a broken man.

Silence reigned as Adrien Victus entered into his private cabin with nothing else in mind but sit down and reflect on things. Regret clenched his heart, and powerlessness plagued his spirit. He could not help but wonder if the Primarch was wrong to put his name forward for the command of the Sword Armada, or if his appointment was the product of colleagues who want to see his unorthodox approach to warfare laid low by the staggering attrition inherent to this front. The turian General got himself seated and tapped a talon on his personal computer in a key sequence that immediately spawned a haptic image of the H-1 System. It was obvious that the Council at least hoped he could resolve matters here with minimal loss of life and resources... but Adrien saw no easy way to solve this dilemma, against the most difficult battlefield conditions he's ever seen.

It appeared far beyond his ability to manage.

The battlefield largely consisted of a narrow tunnel with a solid wall of metal and guns at the end of it. Adrien looked on the stacked circle formations that comprised the dôji's main defensive line. A vast conglomeration of cruisers and dreadnoughts that stretched toward the planet below, each ring of a different diameter so each consecutive ring has a clear line of fire.

At large, the strategist in him admired the formation... so perfect for the blockading of a relay as no matter where a ship exited it would be within the line of fire of at least three warships. The turian in him however learned to more than hate it for its effectiveness at killing the people under his command. Against those masses of warships and the ground-side anti-orbital defenses he had lost a thousand ships, over a hundred thousand men and women. And in return they only managed to inflict considerable damage to two of those rings before the area around the relay got so cluttered it was impossible to continue the assault.

Demolition raids were then conducted to clear the way. Attack runs that in the first five attacks saw the successful destruction of forty-eight wrecks, until the dôji picked up on them and staged ambushes in return. What had seemed a functional idea was no longer a workable solution.

Still, for lack of a better idea those raids continued being conducted until today when he finally called them off. Too costly for so little gain. His staff, all of whom would have been his equals in rank was it not for his appointment, clamored for the chance to mount a rescue operation to save what remained of the latest failed raid.

A foolish endeavor that would have seen them run afoul of one of the Three Anomalies – A group of three dôji so powerful that to wrap any of them up in a warship regardless of its capabilities would have been an explicit _downgrade_. Adrien pressed a few buttons to bring up their images for observation like he had already done a hundred times before.

Confirmed to have been present during the latest raid was a slender affair who sported a mane the color of fire and optics of peculiar green and red. It was called the Jailor – in place of the official designation of Anomaly One by some in the armada – for its propensity to cripple ships and leave their crews alive for capture. No one dared to wonder what happened to these after.

In contrast, Anomaly Two – called the Butcher – simply partook to slaughter. Anywhere it went, ships died. Waves of undisguised terror preceded it, and devastation followed in its wake. No matter how many times he looked on it, Adrien was chilled by how devilishly its optics glinted.

Anomaly Three – the Ghost – was the most mysterious, and much to the relief of many barely ever left the fleet. It had the fewest documented feats to its name, yet the most fearsome reputation. Anything sent its way vanished, even Dreadnought-scale slugs. The overall lack of verifiable evidence of its capabilities attested to a very low survival-rate against it, and played up the superstition of any number of crew. Enough that it has become a matter of policy for ships to flee if they so much as stray within visual range of it.

With a critical mind Adrien reread everything they knew of the H-1 System. Everything they knew of the dôji. Yet all he managed was be reminded of how hopeless it was to find any weakness or opening to exploit.

Victory through sheer attrition seemed the only viable option.

Frustrated by his persistent failures, and all too aware of how much spilled blood this war required, Adrien buried his face in his palms as the lights cast by the haptic images danced across the walls and ceiling, oblivious to his trepidation.

"General." the haptic map was pushed to the side by the turian image that represented the _Endless Vigil's_ Station VI, "General Corinthus wishes to see you."

"Thank you." Adrien sighed belatedly, grateful for the distraction, "Send him in."

Corinthus was one among the more conservative majority who favored a stand-up fight over any clever ploys. A state of mind that ran a stark contrast to Adrien's preferred methods. Yet he considered him as one of his oldest friends. Adrien stood as he heard the door part and faced it as the fellow General came in, followed closely by Kabalim Nyreen Kandros.

During the fleet battles there were scattered reports of crews who battled with dôji borders and vice versa. Whenever biotics were deployed, the effects were shown to effectively debilitate dôji assailants. So the Hiearchy supplied Corinthus who would lead the assault wherever they hit the ground with a Cabal unit for biotic support.

"Looks like I dropped by just in time, Adrien." Corinthus mused as he neared and took in the sights, "You look rather pale."

"Good to see you believe in me so much." Adrien replied wryly as they shook hands, much to Nyreen's perplexity.

The fellow General spread his mandibles amiably, "When I saw how much doom and gloom gathered around your head downstairs, I just knew I could not leave you alone."

"General..." the Kabalim stared at her immediate superior in abject disbelief, "If I may be so bold, you are being..."

"Too casual?" Corinthus shrugged, "Adrien and I have been friends since before you were born, Kabalim Kandros."

She mildly bristled but said nothing, and remained more or less at attention. If he could not maintain proper decorum then she certainly would. For a spell there seemed to run an electrical current between them before their conversation resumed like nothing happened.

"In any case," the old friend of his continued, "with all the trouble of late, I imagine you want nothing more than to unwind."

"You assume correctly," Adrien assented, "I got several hundred thousand people under my command, and I dread throwing them into the slaughter without a good chance of success."

Corinthus pointedly nodded, "And I share your sentiment. You and me, we are not afraid to spend men for the cause... but we don't want to waste them for no gain."

"That's the position exactly." he pointed to a couple of chairs to the side, "Kabalim Kandros, if you may."

Nyreen nodded her assent and gathered the chairs for his friend and herself in short order while Adrien wandered to a nearby closet and returned to his seat with a bottle and a trio of cups, two of which he offered to his visitors. An offer the Kabalim only reluctantly accepted.

"Rather light." the fellow General commented once a fill was poured and sampled, "Kuskar brew, I take it?"

Adrien grinned a confirmation, "Nothing heavy before victory."

"Solid as ever those principles of yours." Corinthus raised the cup.

He did likewise and they exchanged a toast, "You know it."

Words could not appropriately explain how relaxing the next couple of hours turned out to be. Adrien discussed with his friend whatever came to mind and for the first time since this whole debacle started he managed to think clearly with no muddle to restrain his thought, and what distant migraine previously threatened to take hold was banished like a leaf in the wind.

Gratitude was too mild a word for this bliss, even if they occasionally veered onto topics more or less... odd, to say the least:

"Wait, you're serious?" Adrien asked disbelievingly, a question Nyreen likewise if quietly wondered as she stared at her superior, "There are truly those kinds of people?"

"Very much. Some deviants who fantasize about those dôji." said Corinthus with a shrug as he sipped from his cup, "When I think about it, I kind of see where they are coming from... but please..."

For an elaboration on that topic, he needed no more than a glance at the haptic images of the three dôji. Their thin waists and the manes that could in a manner of speaking be seen as exotic head fringes appealed to turian sense of beauty. Just as their unique skin tones can be deemed interesting to salarians. And the similarity in morphology would make them pleasing to the asari eye.

The design choices were in no doubt deliberate.

Soon after they – much to his and Nyreen's relief – moved on to other topics that revolved around friends, families, and duty... that inevitably lead to the equally inevitable conclusion where they discussed recent events and of the difficulties involved. Still, the tone was kept casual and did not darken the mood between them.

"- We got no freedom of movement, with no other choice but exchange fire and hope we can leverage enough force to break up their defenses before they clog the relay with the ships of our dead." Adrien recounted and could not help but sigh, "It's like engaging fortified positions across open ground."

"I get that." Corinthus nodded, "It's really too bad we don't have a wall between them and us."

Something deep inside his head felt like it clicked into place, but reality swiftly took over. "Huh, that would have been nice." Adrien laughed dryly, "No chance of things being that convenient though."

"On the ground at least, we could make some cover ourselves. Maybe a big crater with the biggest explosive we can toss on ahead." his friend said, "Not much, but it would've given a few precious minutes."

Adrien started to agree, but his eyes glazed over as he stared contemplatively into space, "Make some cover ourselves..." before he blinked and turned his attention to the H-1 System map and looked on the debris field again.

"General?" Nyreen frowned, uncomprehending.

Corinthus hushed her down, his tone very quiet as he smiled, "You're onto something, aren't you?"

A frustrated growl left him. It was there all along, within arm's reach. An option existed after all! Not at all a perfect solution... but it'd give them the opening they need no matter how briefly. It could change their current deadlock. Not much, but a little... perhaps enough to eventually tip the scales. _We need much more than the debris field can provide though._ Adrien thought irritatedly, _Where are we going to find more?! It's not like we got piles of scrap just lying around..._

 _Korlus._

 _Of course!_

With a jolt, Adrien rose from his seat and strode for the door, "I apologize for cutting this short, friend, but I need to see the Council at once."

Corinthus nodded as he, too, stood, "No apologies needed, General."

No more than farewells were exchanged from there before their meeting concluded and Adrien hurried down the corridors for the Conference Chamber while he drummed a full five talons furiously against his omni-tool, so immersed in his thoughts he barely acknowledged the personnel he passed en route.

Only once the draft was done did he call for his XO, Abalus, to inform the Council he needed to have a word with them, and entered the Conference Chamber just in time for the response.

"They will be ready to see you momentarily, General."

"Good." Adrien replied as he hurried to the center of the room and it darkened and the vista changed completely. All around him, the Council Chamber appeared in all its glory. His gaze however focused on no one but the three who ultimately gave him this command. "Councilors." he gave a stiff bow.

"General Adrien." Sparatus addressed him curtly, "Your XO told us this was urgent. Has something happened on the front?"

"It remains unchanged." he put their concern at ease, even if it meant he just told them he had yet to make any significant progress since the first invasion attempt failed, "A state of affairs I intend to see an end to."

The Councilors exchanged looks briefly. Valern looked the most thoughtful, "I take it you have a plan of action, General?"

"Fully, Councilor." Adrien stated in confidence as he brought his omni-tool up and made the final preparation, "I will send you the specifics now."

Silence followed as the Councilors waited for as long as it took for the data-package to arrive and be checked before its contents transferred to the consoles before them. Tevos embarked to bring up from hers a haptic screen and read, joined quickly by her colleagues.

After a short while, the asari looked back at him, "What your plan involves is an undertaking of a sort unheard of in all our history, General."

"I understand how... ambitious it is, Councilor." he replied evenly, mandibles set, "This is necessary to avoid a phyrric resolution to our conflict with the dôji as their blockade is much too effective. With no more than conventional measures we will not break through without suffering heavy casualties. Far more than we have already."

Valern frowned, "What you suggest is a gamble."

"It's on the unusual side." Sparatus calmly interjected, "But if it works..."

"There is a certain merit to it..." Tevos added slowly as she looked on her colleagues, "However, we must deliberate more closely, and see if it truly can be done."

Neither of them could find faults with the logic behind her statement, and subsequently nodded their assent. She therefore continued, "Thank you, General, you have given us much to consider. You will be notified once we arrive at our decision."

"That is all I ask, Councilor." replied Adrien with gratification and a brisk salute.

She inclined her head, "This meeting is adjourned."

For a moment he closed his eyes, and by the time he opened them again the vista of Council Chambers had seamlessly reverted to the Conference Chamber and left him to return to work while he waited for their eventual response. It took no less than eight hours before he finally received a message on his omni-tool and brought it up for immediate perusal.

What he found filled him with satisfaction, relief, and trepidation in equal measure.

The support for his plan came about by unanimous vote of approval. And in three weeks time, provided nothing got in its way, the Sword Armada will have boots on the ground in the H-1 System.

* * *

 **Author notes:** Chapter Two done. Turned a whole lot longer than intended. Anyway, Slow has recruited the Rachni to his cause, the life and struggle in the Dôji Nation's adopted home continues, and General Adrien Victus is hard at work. Also, while I planted ship designations for dôji ships in Rising Eden, I might as well type 'em down again here, for orientation, along with those of the relevant alien species for future reference. (Because just calling them asari frigate this and salarian cruiser that is just unwieldy)

Dôji Navy:

Kalki - Fighter (Interceptor/Bomber)

Asura - Strike Frigate

Vajra - Defense Frigate

Kurma - ELINT Frigate

Shiva - Cruiser

Brahmastra - Dreadnought

Chakravartin - Juggernaut

...

Turian Navy:

Kharak - Fighter (Interceptor/Bomber)

Digera - Frigate

Arakan - Cruiser

Atrin - Dreadnought

...

Asari Navy:

Aleida - Fighter (Interceptor/Bomber)

Kurinth - Frigate

Tevura - Cruiser

Athamere - Dreadnought

...

Salarian Navy:

Seph - Fighter (Interceptor/Bomber)

Dennar - Frigate

Slovae - Cruiser

Etro - Dreadnought

...

(And there you have it)


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3: Enterprise**_

* * *

 _Location_ : Abyssal Shelf Cluster; Quarian Migrant Fleet; Life-Ship "Neema"

To say her safe return surprised the Migrant Fleet would be an understatement. And yet greater a surprise was when she entered the ceremony of the ship she wished to join – one of the three Life-Ships that make up the very center of the fleet – and offered herself. To have no material gift and offer only herself seemed like nothing short of a desperate move courtesy of a single homesick and ultimately unambitious quarian... until they put her under a full medical checkup and found out her immune system had been completely restored. Sometime during the year she was away, her atrophied immune system had been returned to the state of what was quarian standard prior to the Geth War and flight from Rannoch.

When asked by her stunned father and aunt on how this happened, she told for all to hear that the dôji did this for her. To say the least; they were utterly shocked. And in a fashion all too predictable they believed her to have been manipulated into thinking the synthetics did this out of altruism. And so the exultation that took the fleet upon her return stilled into waves of horror and pity. She was belatedly accepted into the _Neema_ , and given a new suit. Both were supposed to be matters of great honor, instead she felt like they tried to put a cage around her without it seeming all too obvious. That the new suit included a bug to keep track of her location certainly did not escape her notice.

On the other hand, she was thankful for the removal of the collar placed round her neck back on Thessia. An action probably undertaken with permission from the Council. The probe in her new suit served in its place.

Tali'Zorah vas Neema twiddled her thumbs before a station with ever the feeling of being watched and disapproved of as she read the constant influx of data that blazed past on the haptic screen. She thought after the drugs and borderline torture under turian and asari attention that the worst was past her, but this arguably proved her wrong. Nothing was quite as bad as being so completely alienated at home.

There was only one reason she was not entirely censored by the Admiralty Board, because in it she did receive patronage from one she in any other situation would rather be without. And she could practically feel his presence as the eighteen others she shared this space with abruptly vacated it.

Still, for all her dislike of him she could not afford to be without. As according to proper decorum no matter her personal reservations, Tali snapped to her feet as he approached, "Admiral, sir."

"At ease." Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib – his ship named so because its crew were unable to change the ship's registry information – was an oddity in a population that overwhelmingly feared and hated synthetics. He believed them to be people too, and saw the geth as such that rose up against oppression. But for all his oddity, that he has managed to rise into the rank of Admiral and retained the title in spite of his rather unorthodox views meant that there are more Captains and crews in the Migrant Fleet that at least partially share his views than she thought possible. "How are you holding up, Tali'Zorah?" he asked in a formal manner.

Tali fidgeted as she pondered the query, "Considering how I'm two or three steps short of exile, it could have been worse."

"Had I more a sway, you wouldn't had to go through this." Zaal said, his head inclined in a slight nod of sympathy.

"If auntie Raan at least understood, I could easily deal with the rest." she let out a belated sigh, "Maybe if I did not drop the bombshell like that and took time to explain."

Zaal shrugged, "Thinking about what you could have done won't help your case. What we need to do is verify."

"I guess." Tali murmured unhappily and glumly inclined her head a fraction, "Have there been any changes out there?"

"Yes... It's the reason I decided to come by today." he nodded, a glint in his eyes, "It has come to our attention that the Council just finalized the logistics behind a new plan of action to break the current stalemate on the Dôji Front, but they lack manpower on short notice."

"Good."

"Which is why they decided to contact us, as many of our people have exactly the expertise they need."

Tali froze and struggled to articulate the sheer outrage that threatened to explode at the unmitigated gall of it, "After they left us out to dry when our people were driven from Rannoch, they now dare to come and expect help from us!?"

"Not without a sizable compensation." Zaal said like it was okay, "My colleagues will most likely accept the offer, and I with them."

"How can you even do that?"

He did not even blink, his voice remained perfectly even, "Because it will provide us an opening we can use to our advantage. One only exploitable if I follow the others lead."

If none of his prior statements woke her up from whatever daze she still had from morning, this certainly did. Tali straightened, "An opening?"

"Do you know of Korlus?"

"Korlus..." Tali parroted, curious of the change of topic, "You mean the planet covered in junk?"

Zaal nodded his approval, "The Council intend to salvage as many scrapped ships buried there as possible, along with any sizable debris, for the purpose of being made into drones then used to clog up the ship-graveyard present on the Dôji Front and create a metal barrier for the next great offensive."

"And the window of this opportunity is somewhere in there...?" the female quarian was silent for a moment before she understood, "You want to use this to send a contact team to the dôji?"

"Complete with equipment that will allow communications with the fleet." Zaal smiled with intensity, pleased that the engineer pieced his plan together, "I already have a roster ready, but would like you to lead them."

"Me? But my suit's... And the Citadel..."

"One of my crew, Vala'Mal vas Qwib-Qwib, is willing to switch suits with you, take up your identity, and act as a double for the duration. You will in turn use her name while you're out there."

Tali blinked at how much he's thought this through, "You know she'll grow ill."

"Vala'Mal's prepared for it. Or as prepared as one can be for it, I suppose. Now, I would like your answer. Will you do this?"

"Without hesitation, Admiral." she snapped a quick salute, "When do we begin?"

"Two days. I will have the rest assembled by then."

Tali watched the Admiral turn to leave, before something occurred to her. "Admiral... There is a catch, right?"

"..." Zaal did not look at her, his voice grim, "You and your team to be will receive implants before you leave. Implants that will notify me if any abnormality occur when you meet those synthetics again. I need not tell you what I'll do if they choose to manipulate you."

She swallowed nervously, "I... understand."

"Are you still with?"

"Completely..."

The Admiral did no more than nod before he left, and let those who waited outside for their business to conclude back in to their workplaces. Tali simply remained and stared at the door Zaal had left through before she returned haltingly to her work, and once again felt glares bore into her back.

* * *

Three days later...

 _Location_ : Utopia System; above Eden Prime; Tenjo; Engineering Core.

"Another failure..."

Pardonner muttered this softly as he leaned hard on the chair and craned his neck as far as its backrest allowed, his eyes closed as he emitted a long sigh of resignation that threatened to boil into frustration. Given the days of persistent failures when time's of the essence, frustration was more than due.

Sufficiently cooled down after a moment of that, he looked back down at the latest failure of a blueprint after it had been put through a simulation. As a spaceship it was a very functional design, but he ultimately found it severely lacking at the purpose he intended it for.

Stealth, in other words.

Concealment Wards are no good anywhere but on stationary targets. Optical Camouflage is utterly worthless in the vastness of space where people will look to their scanners more than they will eyeball things. Heat Concealment on the other hand seemed wholly reasonable given the near-zero environment. Reasonable, but carried a slew of problems he struggled to resolve.

To his vague relief, amidst his contemplation a distraction invited itself as someone knocked on the door. "Come in." Pardonner called out momentarily.

He half-expected Daos, but the lithe figure that appeared in the door frame was decidedly different. "Thought I'd find you here, Pardonner." Service, Aspect of Generosity, commently melodiously, his lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Currently there aren't many other places that require my oversight at this time." the Aspect of Patience shrugged as he watched his colleague among the virtues approach and look over the workplace. The Engineering Core was the heart of the Tenjo's industrial complex, where they needed to go if they wanted some new design entered into the ship's database.

Service gazed long at the dome-shaped projector Pardonner used and noted the shape of spaceship that hovered in the gentle blue light it emanated, "So how are things going here?"

"Horribly to say the least." he admitted calmly and unhappily, "Unless the Citadel decides to toss a few stealth ships our way, we're looking at possibly months of development time."

"We don't have months, unfortunately." Service expressed, similarly distressed as he came and leaned on Pardonner's chair from behind, "The ships must be made ready in a few weeks at most."

He craned his head to look up at his fellow aspect, "I will most certainly make the attempt. Just be aware it might well not be possible."

"Ah phooey..." the blue-haired dôji sighed before he let go and sat himself gracefully on the neighboring chair, "Still… onto the real reason I'm here."

"Was there something else?" Pardonner wondered idly as he waved the blueprint away, resigned to start all over again.

"Yes. As a matter of fact," he wrung his gauntlets for a moment, "I need you."

At that moment, he had already put down several modules before that caught up to him and he accidentally bounced a line far out of view, "Excuse me?!" Pardonner coughed.

It took a moment before Service caught up on his own words and blushed crimson, "No, n-not like that!" he stuttered awkwardly with a few frantic waves, "What I meant to say is… I need your help with something else. Not right now, but later."

"Okay, less awkward." he nodded dryly, "I suppose this has something to do about your half of Operation Outreach." _It's the whole reason I'm even doing this stealth project to begin with..._

"You suppose correctly." Service put up a rather tight smile, "I want you to assist me in it, because aside from the inherent dangers I've hit a snag that can only be covered by your Noh."

"In what way if I may ask?"

"Corporeal Manipulation. Next to its ability to heal and otherwise provide succor, it can influence bodily functions, including the mind and senses, to an incredible extent. What is direly needed, is an illusionist who can make the aliens see us not as dôji. It's well within your ability, I think."

"I guess." said Pardonner quietly, "Can you tell me the plan, for why you require such deception?"

"Because we're going to start a musical band," Service went and said it, "on Thessia."

Pardonner grimaced, understandable given how utterly crazy it sounded. Suddenly it made a whole lot of sense why Service wanted him, as his Noh would allow them to perform in the open without attracting hostile attention – not to mention how a bunch of dôji would cause the area of their appearance to explode into general hysteria. Question remained, "Why?"

"An old adage says to know your enemy." said Service as he raised a claw pointedly, "I want to expand our knowledge on the aliens and their cultures – something I believe is more easily done up close and personal."

"I guess that makes sense." Pardonner murmured thoughtfully, "Still... with my help it will remain very dangerous."

Service nodded, "Nevertheless, I believe we can do it."

"And belief can overturn the universe, right?"

"Does that mean you accept?"

"No… I need to think about it firs-"

Next thing he knew, the door slid open as though someone kicked it in. And through it, in strolled what passed for sex appeal made manifest among dôji. As the Aspect of Lust, Désir more than readily upheld that image as he with an effortless poise of reflexive lusciousness present in every motion as he walked in, his arms folded against his chest. He wore a sultry smirk as he focused his eyes on a single object of attention, "Pardonner, I give you an opportu~"

Pardonner who was probably the only dôji to resist Désir's seductive charm and remained thus the only aspect not bedded by him immediately seized Service by the nearest gauntlet and shook resolutely, "I'm in."

"Oh~" Désir's spherical cottontail bobbed faintly in poorly veiled displeasure even if his expression did not change, "Don't go making decisions just yet, my dear."

"He just did." Service stood, his gauntlet still held, "And unlike me, you have no need for his presence on your expedition."

"Given how hard he's been working for the sake of all the rest of us," the peach-themed dôji smirked, "Pardonner is more than deserving of a right and proper vacation. One I very much intend to provide for him."

"You just want him for a bed warmer, I'm sure."

Désir eyed the top-clad dôji as he strode on, gauntlets firmly put onto his hips, "Pesky little bird needs a little thrashing I see."

"What a coincidence." Service let go echoed the gesture, that was quick to end with them chest to chest, forehead to forehead, their eyes locked, "I believe the bunny need to be taken down a fair few pegs."

"It's a duel then. Winner gets to have him~" Désir purred.

Service chuckled, "You're on."

"Guys..." Pardonner half-groaned, his face crimson from the knowledge of being selected as their prize, given the impression of two predators fighting over a chunk of meat, "I've already..."

"If you're going to fight." the disembodied voice of Sophia cut him off over the local PA, "Take it down to the planet. I would suggest the Mural Mountain, but do try and keep it undamaged."

Désir nodded belatedly, "Sounds like an idea."

Pardonner on the other hand was simply frustrated, "Go then and fight it out. I'll just stay he..." only to be cut off again as them both grabbed his arms and held him close in-between them as they led him out, "H-hey, hold it!"

"It's only fitting that you partake as referee." Service told him, positively eager to get started.

For his own part, he could only sigh and let the overly excitable fellow aspects have their way.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later…

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Mural Mountain.

Pardonner supposed it was lucky that Ultimo was on board the Tenjo at the time. One spatial ball and they wound up on one of the Mural mountain's several plateaus with yet another instruction to try not damage it too much. A muttered complaint about the whole affair had drawn Ultimo to give him a quick look of disapproval.

"Oh hush, are you aware of how many dôji would have killed to be in your position?"

 _Far as I'm concerned, they may have it free of charge…_ Pardonner thought sourly as he sat on the rocky ground and watched while those about to fight 'for his hand' staked out the area before they took position thirty feet distant.

"The condition for victory is as follows:" called Pardonner with an arm raised for indication, "First knockdown."

Little as he cared for this little contest, he provided it due consideration. This battle would doubtlessly be decided by the first to activate his Noh.

Stat Kill vs Power Manipulation.

Pardonner thus knew this would not last beyond a minute at the very most. A few seconds at minimum.

"Begin."

Granite though the plateau may be, the spots upon which the aspects stood crumpled like as much cardboard as they launched themselves into melee and met elbow to elbow with explosive force. Already then it became apparent which way the battle could very well turn. The ground itself split as the Aspect of Lust was after no more than an instant pushed onto the defensive, barely able to remain on his feet, the effort spent visible in a mask of grim determination.

All Aspects are comparable in terms of power, but being numbered six to the sins' seven, the virtues were in terms of baseline specs made slightly stronger than those of the other group.

Still, it's not great enough a difference to allow Service to overpower Désir like that. Which meant the one to activate his Noh first was Service, who used it to deploy Désir's own Noh against him.

At first it seemed what Service degraded was Désir's strength, but given how unsteady the latter seemed to be on his feet, it seemed more possible that what he weakened was Désir's sense of balance. And that lack of stability meant he could not properly center himself and push back.

Having realized this, Désir growled a heated, "Clever little..." and activated his thrusters. In a burst of power he shot himself a couple of steps back then produced an instant's worth of sonic boom as he took to the air and swung around his opponent.

Service on the other hand remained on the ground, and bent his knees slightly as he whirled around to keep track of his opponent.

"Karakuri Henge!" both of them called, their right-hand gauntlets quick to shift and reconfigure. With a change of battlefield condition, their method for continued engagement likewise changed.

Désir finished first this time, "Rabbit Horns!" as his gauntlet settled into the shape of a stylized rabbit skull that terminated in a wide-bore cannon.

"Jack-Knife!" Service followed suit. Like its name it indeed seemed like a knife or dagger fashioned into the shape of a stylized Sparrow's head with a sharpened beak, but is in fact a gun.

A thunderclap ripped through the air as both discharged their weapons, most of the racket caused when the shots of intensively compressed air struck one another perfectly. Undeterred, they exchanged a further fifteen volleys that saw steadily more of the plateau cracked open and reduced to rough gravel.

 _Not much longer now…_ Pardonner observed, not having budged an inch even as the battle's intensity was kicked up several notches.

The downgrade Service inflicted on his opponent reared its ugly head again upon the fifteenth shot. While Désir did dodge, the blast came close enough that it span him a few tens of degrees, enough to make him lose sight of Service. A moment of disadvantage the Aspect of Generosity acted on immediately as he finally took to the air and made a most immediate beeline.

"Karakuri Henge:" Service called, his Jack-knife withdrawn in favor of a larger Sparrow's head, with which he struck Désir with terrific force, "Jackhammer!"

Already thrown out of balance, the impact made Désir lose his bearings entirely and fell, and crashed hard into the ground with a resounding thud. Once the momentary cloud of dust thrown up by the harsh landing cleared away, the Aspect of Lust was shown sprawled on the part granite and gravel surface, complete with a stunned expression. Stunned, but otherwise undamaged and more than ready to get back up and continue.

Given the victory conditions however, the fight was decided the moment he made full-body contact with the ground.

"Stop." Pardonner rose and shouted, careful not to display relief, "Service wins!"

And like that, it was over. Désir deeply sighed as he got back on his feet, disappointed but not enough to overly break his composure. After a moment to brush dust from his clothes and rub his neck he came back. "Dick move, Service... dick move." he softly groaned what was essentially a verbal shake of the fist.

"It's a legitimate strategy." giggled Service for a counterpoint as he landed and paced alongside his colleague.

"Right." the Aspect of Lust rolled his eyes and sighed, "I'll leave him in your care then, for now."

"Thanks. I'll take good care of him for you~"

"Guys..." Pardonner breathed a complaint, "Would you mind not talking of me like I'm some kind of property for trade?"

"Haha, sorry about that." laughed Service jollily as he trod past, "Now if you don't mind, I aim to get some parfait. You with?"

Désir shrugged, "Sure, but it's your treat."

"Of course."

"Yeah, go do that." Pardonner dryly folded his arms, "I mean to head back to wor-!" before he found himself unceremoniously swept off his feet and nestled against Service's chest. It and the closeness of the fellow aspect's amused grin doing much to redden his face while he wriggled, "H-hey!"

"Not yet," Service said triumphantly, and held on, "not before you eat a few parfaits with us."

Pardonner had a mind to struggle harder, but decided it was simply not worth it and gave in. "Strawberry, then." The more quickly he let the other aspects' whims play out and complete, the faster he could get back to the drawing board.

"Okay!" the Aspect of Generosity smiled cheerfully, "Then off we go."

It was when they left by means of flight that Pardonner was slightly alarmed, when Service had him more snugly settled. "You don't mean to carry me like this all the way, do you?"

"Mm, I do."

 _Was I anything but the Aspect of Patience, they wouldn't hadteasedme so much. But given that I am what I am, they know I'll forgive them easily enough…_ Pardonner half-lamented as he squirmed in embarrassment, knowing dozens or hundreds would soon get to see him like this depending on where they go. With the same reasoning in mind that made him go along with their whims, he just barely fought it down and remained as is. "Carry on..." he sighed resignedly, with not a word put out that while humiliating this proximity was not entirely unpleasant.

* * *

Nineteen hours later…

 _Location:_ Imir System; en route to Korlus; MFS Freighter "Qwibbler"

"Vala'Mal." a rough but muffled voice called out as if from the other side of a bulkhead, not helped at all by the din produced by the ship's jury-rigged but high-power ventilation system, "Vala'Mal, wake up."

Until she stirred and winced at an ache in her neck, Tali did not at all realize she had soon after entrance into the cabin reserved for her fallen asleep. Now that it was no longer a simple lapse in attention, she quietly directed a curse at herself and stood from the chair she had apparently managed to briefly hibernate in. "I'm awake." Tali at last responded with a lingering yawn to the name she would wear for at least the next few weeks.

Its true owner she met only briefly when she was brought over to the Qwib-Qwib under the pretext of filling a crew deficiency after a few of its crew became ill and were put in isolation. Vala'Mal was a no-nonsense type of woman who strangely held a certain aptitude for theater, one who had spent some time studying her so to provide a believable double. All the while they exchanged suits, she grilled Tali with questions that examined her behavioral patterns all the way down to the contexts of her hand-wringing.

They were similarly proportioned, except Vala'Mal possessed a slightly larger chest. She made the difference less pronounced with some adjustments of Tali's suit, while Tali herself to outwardly better portray herself as the other woman made her own 'preparations'.

 _Ancestors, how awkward was that._

That was in its turn followed by a long string of procedures which included the meeting with those who would be on her team, the briefing, and every level of their preparations before they were finally ushered to the small freighter attached to the Qwib-Qwib, the 'cleverly' named Qwibbler, and went out as the forty-sixth ship to set course for Korlus.

Carefully Tali rubbed her sore neck as she stood and stumbled over to the door and had it slide open. Only to see it get stuck a third of the way.

"Ma'am, allow me." the man on the other side declared before he gripped the door and pried it open with a grunt of effort – then kicked it for good measure. Kal'Reegar was never one for finesse when blunt application of force can get the desired result. A little bit brutish perhaps, but she liked the thoughtful look in his eyes.

When the Admiral said he'd assemble a crew, she never thought it would include such an accomplished member of the Migrant Fleet Marines. Ever practical a man who put those under his care before himself, Tali felt quite safe.

Some females say he's close to the perfect husband material. Just so soon after meeting him, she was inclined to agree.

"Thank you, Kal." Tali smiled and graciously inclined her head as she crossed the threshold, "How are everyone?"

Kal'Reegar nodded, "Pensive, ma'am. Eager to get some work done."

"And there will be a lot of it ahead." she replied, "I didn't quite get to ask you this before, but how do you feel about what we're all here for?"

"Not for me to say, ma'am." said he courteously, "I suppose I'll know when we see them."

"Fair enough. So how far out are we?"

"We will enter Korlus' orbit in approximately twenty minutes, ma'am."

"On schedule. Thank you, Kal." Tali sighed and made her way to the bridge.

He followed with barely a nod, "My pleasure."

It felt odd to have her own command, however small it was, so soon after the completion of her pilgrimage. Given the importance of this mission however, she could afford little doubt and shoved it as deeply as she could. The bridge as it opened up before her helped bury it further.

Prazza'Tel vas Iktomi sat at the helm. A competent, and notably reckless helmsman, which Tali supposed they needed for the crazy stunt to come later on – though the list about his tendencies to take risks appeared a little too extensive for her liking. Most glaring was an incident where he helped fend off a pirate ship that was just about to board through a brutal delivery of physical trauma with the bluntest side of his ship while he ostensibly screamed an over the top 'Waaagh!'.

Why his Captain bothered to add that last bit was anyone's guess.

At the sensory station sat Kefila'Kanna vas Jjaro. Her clan was notable for its abnormally high percentage of non-traditionalists, many of whom are vocal supporters of Admiral Zaal'Koris. Tali did not know much of her yet aside from what her dossier said. Aside from being an outstanding engineer, she's also a renowned dancer – and thus something of a cultural treasure.

Last and not least was Nao'Lani vas Idenna who probably was still in engineering. An oddity to be sure. Most quarians are comfortable sleeping in a noisy environment, but Nao'Lani made it into an art form by her uncanny ability to sleep comfortably right next to any ship's engines. At the best of times she got a lackadaisical air about her, but her eyes are both sharp and alert throughout.

She was also older than the rest of them by a score of years, her vast experience helped along by a high level of dedication that grew out from an engine failure that killed her parents. Not about to leave any engine unsupervised, Tali was not likely to see her until they land, unless she took a trip down to engineering.

But right now, business called.

With as much confidence as she could impart into her step, Tali motioned toward where their helmsman sat, "Prazza, what's our status?"

"About to start in-flight procedure, Tali'Zorah." Prazza replied formally, slightly bored, "No sign of trouble."

Korlus was not a Council world, but part of the Terminus Systems. Only reason they presently allowed Council forces on their surface was because of all the credits clinking in the background. Korlus' administration stood to gain a fortune to sell the overabundance of scrap scattered across their world atop of the clean-up this business of theirs would inevitably result in. The kind of winning scenario one would have to be crazy to turn down.

Still. Terminus Systems. No matter where, trouble was an eventual given. And besides that, Korlus has the dubious honor of having the highest murder rate per capita in the galaxy. It and Tuchanka together currently rated as the armpits of the galaxy.

Tali nodded, "Best we keep it that way. Now have us declared."

With a shrug, Prazza opened a channel, "Approach Control, this is the MFS Qwibbler. Requesting permission to land."

The response was as prompt as the muffled laughter that came with it. "Qwibbler, we have been expecting you. Make your way to Korpus Spaceport and await further instructions."

"Roger that Approach Control." the helmsman half-sighed, "Moving in."

Prazza set the course and not so long after they darted into the planet-sized junkyard's orbit. It seemed from here like little more than a desert planet, having only relatively recently become somewhat inhabitable, its native evolved lifeforms utterly miniscule in both number and scale. Increasingly it also became apparent of how crowded the orbit is.

"Any reason to be worried about those?" Kal asked.

Kefila shook her head, "No, most of them are transports and freighters. A few constitute what wrecks they have salvaged so far… barely space-worthy – just good enough to make the trip." she indicated the nearest group of them, "What we're seeing here's just the final checks before they are bunched into convoys and dispatched."

"Going to be a lot of those scrap drones." Tali shrugged as she took in the sight, "Council wants as many as can be scrounged up."

"Keelah..." Prazza verbally grimaced as he leveled the Qwibbler, a shudder quick to come and pass as he lowered them into the atmosphere proper, "Sounds damned expensive."

The marine shrugged, "If it provide soldiers with better odds at surviving… it's credits well spent."

"A complete waste either way. All of this could have been avoided if the Council had more sense in their heads." Tali hissed pointedly, arms folded as she watched the darkness of space give away for Korlus' rusty orange atmosphere. Already they could see Korpus, one of the planet's larger cities, and the large scrapyard that stretched to the north and east of it. In this vast expanse operated Camp Six, to which her crew were assigned along with hundreds of other quarians to further bolster the Council crews and local contractors currently at work there.

Their conversation was summarily interrupted as a voice scratched itself in with the kind of depth and drawl one would usually associate with batarians, "MFS Qwibbler, this is Korpus Spaceport Flight Control."

"Copy that." Prazza was once again prompt, "Where can I put her down?"

"Landing Pad Sixteen is ready to receive you. Approach when ready."

Prazza replied, fixated at their course, "Acknowledged, Flight Control. Qwibbler out."

"Once we're on the ground, I want a full lock down with only tertiary power active. We won't be seeing the Qwibbler again for a while." Tali told her crew, Nao'Fumi included with a quick tap into the ship's PA system.

"So," Nao drawled back through it, "can anyone guess what kind of quality abodes we'll get?"

"Nothing too bad." reassured Tali with a shrug, "Comfortable but not luxurious."

The quarian down in engineering seemed to verbally nod, "Good."

"Quit the chatter and brace. We land in five..." Prazza interjected, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he closed the gap. Tali reflexively reached out and grabbed the nearest handrail. Given how old most quarian ships are, Qwibbler included, they could not expect a soft landing. "Four… three… two… one… touchdown!"

A half-violent shudder ran through the ship as it without gentleness hit the metallic ground. Tali struggled to keep on her feet, but retained it throughout till their ship fell silent – or as silent as it could be. With a sigh of relief, she made a call, "Prepare lock down, then suit up. We got here on schedule, let's keep it up."

Right after the ship shuddered again as the landing pad slowly submerged slowly into the hangar below. Orange light transitioned into stark blackness, then sterile white.

"At it." Prazza replied.

Nao's reply as equally quick, "Doing."

"Rest of you, with me." Tali continued as she turned on her heels and made for the ship's makeshift armory where all their weapons and provisions lay in wait to be collected. Kal'Reegar's weapons layout was for obvious reasons more extensive as he motioned to collect a pistol, then followed it up with an assault rifle, shotgun, and his beloved rocket launcher – a tool of destruction for every occasion.

Tali's attention toward her own firearm on the other hand only amounted to a quick pickup and application to the magnetic clamp on her hip before she went count the contents of her provisions. She was already aware of the exact count, and knew it was sufficient a number to last her a couple of weeks.

Still, it paid to be careful.

By the time she finished up and put the pack of provisions onto her back, Prazza and Nao had joined them and went over their own things with the same amount of caution. Nao's pack seemed extra bottom-heavy, which was a given because of the mobile transmitter hidden inside, "Everything ready?" Tali asked them.

"If someone try to steal our ship, they'll find more than they bargained for." Prazza claimed confidently.

"Less." Nao drawled airily, largely indifferent as he brought the counting of her supplies to a close and hefted the pack with a grunt, "The Quibbler's over a hundred years old. Give it as much as a cross-eyed look and it'll crumble."

Prazza puffed out his chest as if to deflect a slight against his person, "You doubt my skill?"

The engineer rolled her eyes, "Nah. It's called being realistic."

"Quit the chatter." Kal'Reegar barked before Prazza could retaliate, "It's far too early to be at each others throats."

 _That's just throwing fuel at the proverbial fire_. Tali winced and gently intervened, "It's fine. A little banter won't kill us."

"Speaking of banter..." Kefila looked on over, "Wasn't a superintendent supposed to come and direct us by now?"

Occasionally she was glad for the visors. Tali had blinked dumbly before she remembered that particular detail, _Keelah…_ "Of course, and is probably outside waiting for us already." and made her way out of the storage room and straight to the airlock, which she just as quickly opened.

"Ma'am." Kal notified of his presence behind her, having come along.

She was grateful for it as the airlock eased aside and brought to light an extensive hangar that for all its crystal-white lighting looked fairly dusty. Everything seemed dusty on this ball of rock. Still, Tali climbed out and made it to ground where a well-dressed asari already stood in wait, a datapad in hand. A somewhat shameless one at that, given how she gave the female quarian a quick once-over, and lingered on her chest for barely a second longer.

"Ms. Vala'Mal, I presume?"

Tali inwardly sighed.

 _Here we go._

* * *

 **Author Notes:** Not as long a chapter, but it felt apt to stop here for now. Désir's Noh in the manga was Noh Kill, but as it wouldn't really work out here I decided to have it changed to Stat Kill, which ultimately does the same job, making the enemy vulnerable to him.

Oh well, on to answers to reviews:

Elias : Thank you, thank you very much. :)

EosphorosWriting: This won't be the last installment. If everything goes well there will be two more. Also, Slow's claws are actually red.

Alfonse08: There would be size and overall compatability-issues with those species. So, no, they won't be able to activate ICON mode.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Endeavor, Familial and not**

* * *

 _Eight days later..._

 _Location_ : Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Monzae's.

Professional irritation lingered in the back of his thoughts as he beheld that which hung nakedly in the middle of the haptic canvas. At first glance it was on the brink of completion, a spaceship shaped roughly in the Tenjo's image. A more keen eye could however see that this 'brink' was akin to a chasm, its final completion kept at bay by the continued inability to construct the systems critical to its purpose. Every attempt so far had only ended in failure when the time came to run it through simulations.

 _I'm missing something... If I could only find out what..._

Frustrated yet determined, he tried again... before a youthful voice cut in.

"Dad?"

Pardonner blinked in startlement, and was mildly dismayed and embarrassed to discover that he was daydreaming without noticing it. He was not in the Tenjo's Engineering Core, but in a fairly decent ice cream parlor located in the northern outskirts of Yggdrasil. It was pleasingly clean, well-decorated, crowded and busy, he found no fault in the customer service, and the weather outside was beautiful.

Last but not least it was where his youngest offspring, Hikari, started to work after he left his father's side. It was a pleasant surprise that somewhat mitigated the humiliation born from those days ago when Service at the end of his duel with Désir proceeded to carry him bridal-style deep into the most heavily populated settlement in the system.

"My apologies." Pardonner groused as he rubbed the length of a claw across his eyes, and tried to ignore the position Hikari had chosen to take. Rather than sit in the chair like the vast majority of those of his lineage would, Hikari once he delivered the ordered strawberry-flavored parfait went and hoist himself onto the table and all but lounged across its length. Most would find very little to complain about that due to the great beauty he was renowned for already early on in his childhood. But being his father... Pardonner only found the borderline sultry positioning extremely awkward. "I was a million miles away for a moment. What did you say?"

"I was asking if you like the parfait." Hikari smiled.

"Ah," he mused at the pink-tinted cup of ice cream between them, "I must say it's quite good."

"Given how many the Aspects Service and Désir had you eat that one time, I thought you'd get heartily sick of them."

"On the contrary, it provided me a slight new appreciation. Don't tell those colleagues of mine though if you happen across them."

"My lips are sealed, dad. Still, it was fun to watch. You must have eaten a hundred parfaits."

"Not nearly that much." Pardonner corrected with a sigh at the memory, at how he in resignation let the perhaps overly excitable fellows feed him, "Though if our respective duties did not call, the number would have surely risen close to it." as he chopped of a large piece of cold goodness and briefly enjoyed how the ice-cold flavor spread as he consumed it.

Hikari's smiled broadened a little more, as if in wonder, "It's awe-inspiring to hear you speak of it so simply."

"We have different power requirements." he shrugged and indulged himself some more, "That's all there is to it."

"I understand."

Pardonner licked his lips as he finished half of the parfait and briefly reclined against the backrest. "Speaking of exposure to plenty." he inquired softly, "Are you adjusting well to every day life?"

"Well, I'm getting used to it." Hikari shifted in place, his left leg hoist onto the other, "Everyone in the neighborhood's been really nice to me."

"Being considerate of your youth, I assume?"

"Aye." the youth squirmed, "All of them seem to have at least a few decades on me."

Pardonner mused, "So long as they're not coming onto you I'm satisfied. You are nowhere old enough to where a close relationship is appropriate. Given how you've chosen to position yourself all the times I've been here, I hope you're not already trying to look out for a mate."

"It's just part of the job, dad." Hikari insisted softly, "Monzae said we'd attract more customers if I took advantage of my looks."

 _Oh, did he now?_ The Aspect of Patience gave an oblique glance in the direction of the store's owner who stood at the cashier, a diminutive Son of Avaro who immediately broke out in cold sweat and ducked in behind the counter – fully understanding on how thin an ice he tread.

His son continued, "I did not quite know how to best present myself to our customers, so I went and asked the honorable Aspect Désir as he came by one day, who was willing to show me the ropes."

Pardonner's thoughts turned frigid, and on the far side of the planet where a large-scale military drill was fully underway... Désir froze in the middle of an order and felt a most immediate urge to flee.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Do you have plans for later?"

"Feeling lonely?"

"A little." Hikari admitted.

Pardonner glanced down at the parfait and found what remained partly melted, "Well, I can make room to accompany you. Any particular place you want to go?"

"Um," the youngster hesitated, "I've been wanting to try out the whole bowling thing."

"Oh? I feel there's a 'but' in there."

"Yeah, the bowling alley's crowded by more the rowdy sorts of clientele." he squirmed, "I dare not go alone."

Pardonner smiled warmly, "Let's bowl then."

"Okay." Hikari looked most relieved, and excited, "Would a five hours from now be fine?"

He provided a nod, "It's fine."

"Oi, Hikari!" Monzae managed to weakly pipe up, "Break time's over!"

The youngster blinked and pushed himself off the table, "I'm sorry, dad. Duty calls."

"Of course." Pardonner returned to the parfait, and idly looked forward to the future distraction from his frustrating dilemma as he watched his son hurry to the tables indicated by his boss, where he under the wrapped attention of several dôji struck a graceful pose and took the orders.

* * *

 _Two hours later..._

 _Location_ : Imir System; Korlus; Salvage Camp #22.

"Careful now. A little further to the right... Easy... Easy... There. Stop there!"

Tali hurried down a floor from where she had directed Prazza and Kal's effort to wedge the small element zero core into place. Every wreckage had to be made functional with a bare minimum of components, something that takes a fair bit of effort and precision. It was good then that they are up to the task. Now if only Prazza could pull himself together.

"H-hey, don't leave it!" Kefila called to Prazza as she approached to start fastening the machine, "Keep it steady!"

Prazza growled as he sat on his knees, exhausted, "Keelah... just give me a moment."

"Get back to it!" Tali shouted urgently. She did not like to put pressure on, but this simply could not wait as the ship lay at an awkward angle. One wrong move without proper support and they would have to reposition the core again, "We'll take a break once this thing is secured!"

"Damn it." the male cursed, but followed through so she and Kefila could make the round and bolt the thing into place. It was far from the appropriate method, but quality was not an overt consideration in this venture. All of the wrecks made space-worthy are going be perforated soon enough.

Every salvage crew had to make do with limited material, and do it cheaply.

Tali nodded in satisfaction once they finished up, "Done! Good work everyone."

"Finally." Prazza slumped onto the floor.

"You need to train more." Kal dismissed in mild chagrin as he with more dignity leaned on a wall, "This is nothing."

"Easy for you to say."

Tali activated her omni-tool, "Nao, what's your progress?"

"Almost done." the older quarian replied with a sense of preoccupation, "This engine got a few calibration errors I need to straighten out."

"Okay. Come up when you're done, it's time for lunch."

"Aye."

It was best not to interrupt Nao too much, something Tali found out quickly on their very first day on the junk-riddled face of this planet. One prod too much and Nao was liable to heft the baton kept in her boot-mounted holster. One of the batarians they worked with on a heavy cargo vessel learned that the hard way. Tali recalled the little incident with mixed exasperation and mirth as she closed the connection and went to where she left her bag a couple of rooms distant.

She retrieved a package of MRE and without a beat made her way out through the nearest airlock. Beyond it lay a vista not particularly stunning, but full of life and activity. Tali admitted quietly that she was in slight awe of the scale of it. Hundreds worked within the wreckage spread out before her, and hundreds more moved between them to reach their work places. Those are just the number she could see. Thousands more worked elsewhere for many miles around.

From a beam she decided to use for a seat, Tali unpacked her meal carefully.

"How many ships do you think have been rendered space-worthy so far?"

"I have no idea." Tali replied as she looked up at Kefila who very carefully drank a portion of her MRE through her mask's induction port, "Last I checked, there's seventy work camps like this one out there."

"Going by that, I wager there's at least a couple of hundred up and on their way to the Dôji Front."

"And we haven't found a suitable craft yet."

"We'll find it." Kefila said after she downed another mouthful, "Or if we can't, the others will."

To make greater the chance of operation success, several other groups out there affiliated with Admiral Zaal'Koris had been tasked with the look-out for a vessel that would most suit their needs. But so far there has been no word. Tali wanted to maintain a positive outlook, but it's been eight days. The window of opportunity threatened to close on them, especially as it would only be a matter of time before someone back home discover that something's amiss with her substitute.

Kefila picked up on her glumness and applied a slap to the back.

"Ow!" Tali yelped so the MRE almost flew from her grasp, "What's that for?"

"Chin up." snapped the engineer, though the tone implied her smile did not fade, "If you lose hope, how are we supposed to go on. Most of us just came along – risking our lives – to find if there are truth to your claims about the dôji. I for one aim to see the most if they can truly dance."

Tali blinked in complete astonishment, "Is that truly all you need to know?"

"Dance, Vala'Mal," Kefila replied pointedly, "is an important part in every culture out there. Even for the krogan. It's an expressive art far beyond the capacity of the cold and unfeeling geth. My decision on whether these dôji are truly what you say depend entirely on whether their groove is empty, or abundant with passion."

"Convince me, and I'll be in your camp entirely."

To say Tali was surprised would be an understatement. She was aware that every one of her kind required proof to put the metaphorical meat on the bone of her claims, but was amazed that all this one needed was to know of the synthetics' passion. Tali still more than remembered her one time in that night club during her stay on Earth, and the excitement that hung in the air.

If only her family could be as easily convinced.

"Looks like we got ourselves a visitor."

Tali started from her moment of deep thought and stood to look the way her colleague currently peered. The question on whether it was the overseer died in her throat as she saw a dark-suited male quarian make his way to them through the haphazard terrain with notable purpose.

"I need to speak to 'Vala'Mal'." he grunted once close enough to not turn their conversation into a shouting match, "It's important."

"You're looking at her." Tali replied indicatively, "Who's talking?"

"Mar'Fra. Q-Team #56."

"Allies of ours." Kefila flatly confirmed.

"Personally I don't care much for this vaunted mission of yours, but I'm not the one making the decisions. Now if you would be so kind and come along..."

"Is there a problem?" Tali asked.

He shrugged, "None, I was told to come here and bring you with. We've found something."

She started, "A ship?"

"Come and see for yourself." Mar'Fra said grouchily, "I was hard at work patching up an engine compartment when he decided to split us up even more than we were."

That rather explained his less than cheerful disposition.

"I understand. Give me a moment." Tali replied evenly as she brought up her omni-tool and quickly typed in a message for Kal. A note that she would be away for a bit. "Done." she succinctly announced, "Show us to him."

It occurred to Kefila that the 'us' included her. Being close enough to read the message she wrote also aided in the conclusion. She folded her arms but made no complaint. The man shrugged again and motioned for them to follow, quite eager to get himself back to work.

Tali was worried that their trek would be noticed by any number of the overseers that might be in their way, but those she could see as they made their way through the ship graveyard were luckily preoccupied in their business. The nearest of these was an elcor who had settled into a more or less aggressive posture as he tried to harshly berate a mixed gathering of dirt-covered salarians and batarians who made good their every effort to look distinctly bored with the situation. What they did was unknown to Tali, but supposed it was best not to find out and risk pulling more attention at themselves than would be wise.

Thankfully it did not take long before their arrival at the half-buried remains of a ship entirely devoid of fanciful aesthetics, as is typical with ships of volus make. For entirely economic reasons the rotund aliens preferred simplicity in their vessels over any other considerations. Such a sight however dipped Tali briefly into memory as for a moment the devastation she beheld on Earth overlapped this vista. Her blood ran cold as a fear primal in its intensity rose from the bottom of her gut as any moment now she expected a swarm of mechanical monstrosities to billow from every crevice and race to rend her body apart.

It was truly eerie a sensation.

"Tali?" she heard Kefila's voice from somewhere incredibly far away, the persona they're supposed to stick to completely dropped in concern. A hand that promptly landed on her shoulder woke her from the sudden stupor.

She blinked and found their guide to be gone, replaced instead by a taller man clothed in an all-red environmental suit caked in dust and scattered flakes of rust. "Are you alright, ma'am?" he gently asked.

"Fine... I'm fine." Tali replied slowly, tone numb, in wait for her thoughts to properly clear, "You're the leader of this team?"

"I am." he replied in confirmation, "Chief Engineer Aahlun'Tirram, at your service."

"Have you found us a possible ship candidate?"

"More than that. It is _the_ ship candidate."

"That good?" Tali arced a brow.

Aahlun smiled from behind his light-red visor, "I can guarantee it, ma'am. You remember the body they found three days since?"

"How could anyone forget." Kefila muttered incredulously, "The corpse of a batarian, his body crushed almost to deliquesce by debris. It was estimated his time of death was eleven days ago."

"The very same." the Chief Engineer said with a nod, "When I heard of it, I wondered why he was alone in the middle of this wasteland and did some snooping around."

Tali frowned, "That ship you found was his..."

"Just right. Found it hidden a short way from here." Aahlun quietly told them, "It's late owner, we discovered, was of the Merchant Caste. And his finances were in the red."

"He landed out here to stay low and buy himself some time." Kefila muttered in distaste. Considering what the Hegemony do to those perceived as failures, his death by deliquesce was arguably more merciful than the alternative. The harshness of batarian penalty system is infamous and horribly unmatched among the space-faring species. Yet another dark stain on their perpetually black record.

Aahlun agreed, "Our thoughts exactly, though it is all irrelevant. We got a ship, and that's what matters."

Tali grimaced, "You're right. Show us to it."

The Chief Engineer complied and took them on a kilometer-long walk that terminated in a broad crevice topped by a hulk of such size it would have been ideal for salvage was it not for how crumpled it was. Just a pile that could do no more than wait for the recycling crews to come and take it in.

Within it sat a bulky but small freighter coated in hull visibly thicker than the average. "A blockade runner." Kefila whispered as they approached its side, and walked up to rub a palm across its rugged surface, "Built to take punishment and swift enough to outrun frigates."

"In other words," Tali smiled in approval, "perfect for our needs."

"Truly it is. Almost tempted to run off home with it myself." Aahlun noted in dry humor.

"Likewise, but we have a mission to undertake." Kefila looked it over critically, "Unfortunately, it's really too pristine. We're gonna have to ruin the paint job, remove emblems, give a few scrapes here and there... install the control package, and make a few interior adjustment."

Tali nodded at each detail in agreement, "Don't forget the heat-concealing insulation. We don't want to be found out after all."

"Keelah, how could I forget?"

"Much need to be done, and we can't put too many people at work here at any one time. Aahlun'Tirram, could you get the word out to the other groups?"

"Hm, I'll see what I can do." the Chief Engineer implied a frown as he thoughtfully replied.

"Every day from now on, one from each of teams must come to give this ship the workover it needs, and make sure it's ready for the next convoy in a week's time."

Tali looked up at the old blockade breaker with much anticipation, her smile brilliant in its intensity. Now all that remained was proper caution and execution, and their entrance into the dôji realm would be all but guaranteed.

* * *

 _Five hours later..._

 _Location_ : Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Rocka & Pops Bowling Alley.

Jealousy stared at the pint, and its contents stared back at him... a match for the ages his drink was doomed to lose as he took a long sip that saw the pint emptied, and upon its completion sighed pleasantly. Of the many new products introduced to the market using native resources, the perhaps indecently named Gas Bag Ale was by far his favorite.

It hit like a shotgun blast, but left in its wake such a distinct sense of purification.

He quietly sighed, "I feel alive..."

"And here," Rocka, the mohawked owner of this establishment, chuckled, "I hoped it might just twist your shoes off, sir."

"Not bloody likely." Jealousy replied as he put the glass down and unfurled her claw from it, "But it was really good, even better than last time."

"I always got an eye out for superior products. That never changed with time. Never disappointed you before, have I?"

"Not at all, though I must say I did not expect you to include a bowling hall. The one you had back in the Western Dome sure as hell did not have one."

"I've always had a deep love on bowling besides. Call it good influence. My old man used to operate a bowling hall before he went and died during the last battle on Earth, so when I started this place, I chose to pick up his business too." Rocka smiled as he gestured to the bowling lanes, "Great thing, isn't it? Follows the spirit of bowling nicely."

"Heh." Jealousy hummed as he half-turned to look at the collection of ten lanes, eight of them currently in use by a loud bunch who raucously competed in who could score the most points, "I'm sure there were no such thing as thirty-pin bowling. Especially not ones where the pins are little robots programmed to try and dodge the balls."

"A necessity." the owner shrugged, "Ten-pins' the most strenuous type of bowling the humans had to our knowledge. For dôji, it require no effort at all. Adjustment had to be made to make it a mite challenging. Thirty pins, only one ball roll per turn, etc."

He raised his shoulders, "No arguing against it." and nudged the empty glass forward, "Another fill, please."

"Coming right up."

With a nod, Jealousy leaned back on the stool and relaxed while Rocka went and prepared another bottle, until his attention was attracted by a momentary commotion at a couple of arrivals. Jealousy blinked at how unlikely it was to see Pardonner present in a place like this, was it not for the young adult next to him.

Given a lack of opportunities, he had only seen Pardonner's newest son a few times in the past. Hikari had truly grown well, with a lithe figure, long golden hair trussed up in a ponytail, and similarly golden eyes. It was unusual for a dôji to have identically colored iris and pupil – Service's the only one among the Aspects with this trait – but Hikari got it and looked positively exotic for it. And predictably, some of the more or less drunk dôji among the bowling lanes engaged in catcalling toward the youth who in response nervously hid behind not his considerably taller father. Pardonner in due turm cowed them to silence with no more than a stern glare.

Jealousy smirked. Though he did found Hikari's eyes quite pretty... they could not hope to match the beauty of Pardonner's pristine blue and black eyes that of all the aspects appeared the most human.

Having provided a quick halt to the catcalling, the father and son went to the most distant lane and briefly studied its score panel.

"Rocka." he whispered, "One more of it, and a soda – Coke if you will."

"Here you go." Rocka complied.

Jealousy nodded his thanks as he plucked up the three drinks and made his way over to the kid and parent's lane. "Got room for one more, Pardonner?"

There was no reaction of surprise from the Aspect of Patience, who shrugged as he half-turned, "We might. Did you pick those drinks with us in mind?"

He put up a wry grin, "I entirely did." as he went and put the pints down on the table adjacent to the lane-specific bench, then handed the Coke over to the youth who hesitantly accepted it.

"T-thank you." Hikari mumbled shyly.

"Be a little more clear when you're thanking people, Hikari." Pardonner told his son evenly as he added the Aspect of Envy's name to the score panel, then fed in the coins requested. "It wouldn't do if people misinterpreted you as ungrateful."

The youth floundered, "Y-yes!" and watched as the lane was set. A full thirty pins was lowered onto the lane, followed by the appearance of nine different bowling balls as the lane's conveyance rails activated.

Jealousy approached the nervous kid, "Ever played bowling before?"

"I... I haven't."

"Want me to teach you?"

"Um..." Hikari cocked his head confusedly.

"Feel free to accept." Pardonner said dryly as he took a seat and sipped from the supplied pint with practiced aplomb, "It's okay."

"Alright then..."

"It's not much you need to know, but every little counts." Jealousy said as he reached and bent a claw into a bowling ball customized for dôji with few digits to their name. It weighed some fifty pounds to his estimate, and he swung it back and forth tryingly, "Most basic to know is that this is thirty-pin bowling. Those pins will try and dodge your shot, so aim well and apply force to your delivery. If your shot travel any slower than a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour, it will miss."

Hikari nodded quickly, "O-okay." The kid probably expected his father to be the one teaching him.

"But while you put force to the shot, you must time the release. Release too late in your swing and you'll send the ball flying. That is a bad thing, and you could damage the lane."

"I understand."

Jealousy nodded and took up position a good few feet behind the yellow line that made up the boundary, "Good. Now watch closely." before he held the bowling ball up in front of him, positioned to take aim, then swung his arm back, took a step forward, swung forward, then released just past halfway.

Quickly, at about two hundred kilometers per hour, it closed the gap. The pins reacted to try and pull themselves out of the ball's way. A motion partially unsuccessful as fully seventeen were bowled over.

"Like that." he continued, "Got it?"

"I think so." Hikari replied as he went hesitantly for a red-colored bowling ball.

Having gotten the kid well on his way, Jealousy sat next to his colleague who still savored the drink. "Looks like you've tried this ale before."

"Désir brought a bottle of it once." Pardonner replied flatly, not keen to remember, "My son wound up getting a taste of it. Not long after he got more independent."

"Ouch. Should I go get something else?"

"It's not a problem."

Hikari had by then completed his aim and swung the arm. Even without his Noh active he knew the kid would fumble the shot, and shot out a claw for the full ten feet when the ball was accidentally thrown and snatched it before gravity could overtake it. "Careful." he muttered during its return to the youngster's arms, "Try again."

"How considerate of you." Pardonner smiled slightly.

"Ah? He's the kid of yours," he retracted the claw to instead take his drink, "and this place's owner's a friend of mine. Can't have this place wrecked... it'd look bad."

"I see." the fellow aspect nodded before his gaze noticeably darkened, while his kid busied himself with some swinging practice, loath to repeat his prior mistake, "So how is it out there?"

"About the front line you mean?"

"Yes. I've for a long while been cooped up in the Tenjo."

"Not much to say as the aliens stopped attacking almost right on the dime when my most recent shift was done with." Jealousy recalled with the lazy wave of a claw.

"Sounds like the quiet before the storm." Pardonner commented, his very human-like eyes Jealousy privately wouldn't mind to get lost in narrowed speculatively, "Isn't the _Kunato_ making the rounds?"

 _Kunato..._ Jealousy thought of the lone Kurma that regularly traveled to and from the relay to send probes through. "It sure is, but the aliens have tightened up their security. Consequently because they're shooting up every probe almost the moment they come through, the intel we get for the effort amounts to bits and pieces."

"Ugh, exactly what I needed." the Aspect of Patience winced, "Yet more pressure to develop stealth technology we have no idea how to make."

Jealousy chuckled, but cut it short and focused as Hikari made another attempt. This time he managed to release the bowling ball just on time, though he failed to apply some proper force. Distantly, the pins almost appeared to snort at how slow it was and merely held their ground. And soon enough, the bowling ball trailed off its course and wound up in the gutter. "Aw." the youngster groaned.

"You are making good progress, Hikari." Pardonner said comfortingly as is suitable for a father onto his son before the youth could further delve into self-pity as he put his pint aside and rose to go pick a ball for himself. Predictably it was a blue one he chose. "Keep trying and you'll be knocking those pins down soon enough."

Those were just the right words, Jealousy observed, as Hikari stopped his sulking with a sniff and returned a nod of measured cheer. Without as much as a complaint he took his father's spot on the bench and watched attentively as Pardonner took up position and went through the motions with a focus equally as serene as it was razor sharp. He aimed, swung his arm back, forward, and released the ball at the last instant.

By Noh and long association both, Jealousy noticed how his colleague held back. Pardonner pulled on just enough of his skill to knock down a full twenty pins, but performed weakly enough that Hikari would not believe there's too wide a skill gap between them, and thereby heightened the youngster's enjoyment of the game.

"And there we go." Pardonner applied a gauntlet to hip and looked onto Jealousy, "Your turn."

"Okay, but how about we spice up this game a bit between the two of us?" Jealousy offered as he rose, "Loser buys the next round of drinks."

Pardonner sighed and looked more than ready to refuse if it was not for how his son beamed at the prospect, "Have at it then."

"With pleasure." he replied, and was about to retrieve the ball he previously used when an additional thing came to mind, "Hikari, would you like to provide a time limit for how long we can take to shoot?"

"Sure." the golden-eyed youngster replied without hesitation, "Five seconds. I'll count down."

"And here I was hoping for a relaxing evening." Pardonner rolled his eyes, exasperated, "So much for that."

Jealousy chuckled as he took up position and held the ball up, Hikari having counted down to 'three' by then, "Nothing wrong with having a fun evening instead."

"Two..." his colleague's son chimed, "One...!"

He took the shot, and so a few hours worth of hectic bowling and drinking action commenced. In the midst of which he briefly pitied two other aspects who at the time busied themselves with something far more tedious far away from Yggdrasil's hustle and bustle, even if the importance of their task outweighed some rounds of bowling by an order of magnitude.

* * *

 _Location_ : Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; Brahmastra-class Dreadnought "Endymion"

"Now this is just atrocious." the giant Aspect of Pride, Orgullo, hissed in rough distaste at the haptic display before them, a rough and grainy image of the system just beyond the relay, "This the best those guys on the _Kunato_ can do these days?"

"Considering how the aliens have become so apt at shooting down all our probes, you should commend them for being able to piece together this much." Sophia, the far more diminutive Aspect of Wisdom, replied placidly as he attentively regarded what information the admittedly shoddy map could provide.

Orgullo folded his massive arms and snorted gruffly.

At first glance it seemed like a single comprehensive map, but was actually several hundred that overlapped one another. With such little time to do a scan, they focused on one little part of the system at a time with each dispatch, and patched the information onto the map. But it went without saying that much of the information pieced together so far are nothing new. Within the alien-named Atapo System there are somewhere between six and ten thousand warships, tenders, and freighters at any given time.

What they needed to know was physical hints as to their next course of action, cause surely they aren't planning to just sit there and play containment.

"Nothing here stands out." Orgullo growled impatiently, strong in his dislike for incredibly vague information, "Either they're not planning to up the ante, or the bunch of 'em are doing it somewhere else."

"Either way, this is something we must do."

"Pf, as if I'm not aware of that."

"You know better than to complain then."

Orgullo grunted, "Yet I am well in my right to… Oh fuck it. Are you sure we can't hack them?"

"In such a narrow time frame?" Sophia brushed a claw through his golden mane and asked, slightly amused, "No."

"Gr..."

…

"Sirs." the Captain's voice crackled in through the PA, "We have a new intel package from the 'Kunato'. Says it's urgent."

"Relay it to our workstation, Captain." Orgullo growled, "Snap to."

Sophia waited a split second for the package to arrive on the haptic display and opened it with a firm prod. The existing map vanished and was replaced by the image of the most distant relay. And round it floated a fleet of thirty immense vessels escorted by fifty comparatively diminutive cruisers.

"… What the hell are those?"

"I'm not sure, but they're huge." Sophia inclined for a closer look, surprised that the Citadel got ships like these up their sleeves. Each of them at least five times the size of an Atrin. "Orgullo, do you know why ships usually aren't built to be over a kilometer in length?"

Orgullo let out a grunt of annoyance, "No idea. I did not bother to study up."

"Usually it is because they require such large amounts of Element Zero in order to reliably envelop their ships in mass effect fields that they are impractical for mass production. Consequently those that end up huge include either an oversized Element Zero core – as is the case with the Tenjo, Chakravartin, and Brahmastra – or a number of standard ones."

"So what?"

 _So flippant..._ "My point is, such ships are often built solely to fulfill very specific purposes." Sophia looked up at his more bulky colleague and concluded the explanation, "Now the question is, what purpose were these designed for? Are they juggernauts? Bulk freighters? They can't be carriers."

"Doesn't matter which. We now know for sure they're just catching their second wind." Orgullo interrupted irritatedly, "Now are we going to the Grand Aspects and recommend that we issue a recall?"

"Of course." Sophia nodded firmly, "If there's going to be another major battle soon, all Aspects in a position to be recalled need to be the soonest possible."

* * *

 **Author notes:** A lot of talk, not much action this time around. I considered having Adrien partake in the chapter, but could not do it without it resulting in an early reveal of certain parts of his battle plan I'd rather wait with till a more appropriate time. I'll see if I can push for there to be more action next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Feet first into Hell**

* * *

 _Seven days later..._

 _Location:_ Imir System; Korlus; Salvage Camp #22.

Everyone could feel it without distinction. A sort of restlessness that hung in the air, born from the nearness of the deadline set to terminate on this very day. With the passing of noon, only two hours remained before today's convoy would be dispatched to finish the construction of what had grown to be popularly called the 'Scrap Fleet'. After which the workforce on Korlus would stand on guard, expectant, to wait and see how well the Scrap Fleet performed in service of the Sword Armada. Should it prove successful as is the hope of many, more Scrap Fleets would inevitably be assembled for future pushes into dôji territory.

And in those two remaining hours, many crews worked at breakneck speeds to provide additional hulks in anticipation of the bonuses put forward by the administration in charge of the Salvage Camps. Most other crews either worked without urgency, knowing they could not hope to salvage the current objects of their attention in time, or made it look like they worked as no one knew yet if the project would continue past this point.

But one particular crew had other plans entirely as they prepared to depart from the bridge of their current workplace, an elongated wreck that used to be a asari-made space liner.

"Make sure you're not missing anything." Tali urged as she double-checked the supply of rations and water she had packed thickly in her bag, "We will not be able to resupply for several days."

Prazza sighed dryly, "Nothing but rations to eat for days on end. Joy."

"Speak for yourself." Kal shrugged as he hefted a pack, "I happen to like MRE's, and I just so happen to have drawn a good lot."

"Nafka Jello?!" the helmsman gasped in disbelief, practically ogling the particular pack shown to him, "You total bosh'tet. Those are super rare!"

"Indeed they are."

"Mind if we trade?"

Kal chuckled in quite the smug manner, "Not on your life."

"Boys..." Kefila rolled her eyes.

"You think that's bad?" Nao asked as she closed her bag, "Back in my day..."

"Back when?" Prazza cheekily asked, "The stone age?"

Nao simply stared at him… then reached for her baton.

"Wah!" the helmsman fell back, immediately cowed. "Don't hit me!"

Kal shook his head, "So much for your manhood."

"We really don't have time for arguing, guys." Tali told them sternly, exasperated, "Get this done so we can be on our way."

"Aye." the crew replied, followed by Kal adding a; "Ma'am."

Tali really hoped they would keep the peace ahead as she closed her bag and hefted it onto her back, an action followed by a premonition of further delay as she heard someone call out from below. "Vala'Mal of Q-Team #78. come down here!"

"Oh great." Kefila muttered, "It's Overseer Anir."

Overseer Anir wasn't a bad person per se… her work ethic was simply so rigid even an elcor would complain. Regardless now was not the time to be tied down by an overseer, but they could not just ignore and bypass or kill her either. "I'll handle her." Tali sighed as she climbed out of the bridge and took the nearest set of stairs to reach the hollow gap that long ago sported a pretty sizable airlock back when it was fashionable. Now it served as the most ideal point of entry, and Tali found the asari there in wait for her.

"There you are, Vala'Mal..." the magenta-skinned asari said to the quarian's arrival, "Girl, is there any particular reason why your crew isn't working?"

"We don't have the slightest hope in finishing this ship before the deadline, Overseer." Tali told her straight, "Q-Team #56 on the other hand got a ship almost up and ready to go, but need just a few more hands."

"So they called you? How curious." Anir hummed as she opened her omni-tool, "They've got several teams closer to their position."

"Because we got a good working relationship that would expedite the scrap ship's disembarkation, Overseer."

"I see." the Overseer whispered as she quickly typed in a message, "Then you won't mind if I seek confirmation from the team in question."

She shrugged, arms folded across her chest, "Go ahead."

Anir nodded and dispatched the message, "Just a moment, then."

It took less than a moment for a message to be sent in return, which still felt rather like an eternity to Tali as her crew came down and stood expectantly behind her. Anir checked her omni-tool, and nodded, "Everything checks out. You're free to go, but make sure you come straight back here once you're done."

"Understood, Overseer." Tali replied curtly and gestured for the rest to follow as she stepped past the asari. "We'll be back." she lied.

"You better." Anir replied and parted ways from them with a shrug, to the quarians' collective relief.

Kefila looked ready to exhale an overblown sigh, but Tali hushed her from any such display as they left the liner behind and made way through the Salvage Camp in somewhat a hurry. Thankfully no one provided a hindrance for them as they crossed the distance and reached the location of the blockade runner Rokuran.

Last time she laid eyes on it, the ship was far too pristine to serve the role they intended for it. But now, after several days of tearing into it by fellow Zaal'Koris-affiliated quarians including members of her own crew it now wholly looked the part, its outward resemblance to the wrecks that dotted Korlus' landscape uncanny.

And it was ready.

Aahlun'Tirram, team leader of Q-Team #56 stood by its airlock in wait for them, "No one followed you, right?" he warily asked when they arrived within earshot.

"We're in the clear, sir." Kal, ever attentive to their surroundings, confirmed with a nod.

"… That's a relief." he softly exhaled, "Whole endeavor would go up in flames if someone figures out what you're going to attempt."

Since the urgency to find a suitable ship faded, discovery by unaffiliated parties had been the prime object of worry in Tali's mind. Subtly did she shudder at what would have happened, not at all eager to revisit what was done to her during the stay in prison. "We're aware." Tali gritted her teeth, "Is everything okay to go?"

"The _Rokuran_ is fully ready to carry out its new duty." Aahlun informed succinctly, "When you arrive, all that's needed to shut down the slave program is the press of a specially prepared button. After that… whether you make it comes down to luck and the skill of your helmsman."

"It won't be an issue." Prazza posed confidently, "Just tell me where that button is."

"Big red button you need to slam down right by the pilot's seat. Just don't do it too early, the Scrap Fleet Command will know immediately when the _Rokuran_ 's no longer slaved to them."

"Got it."

"Now you best get on. Time runs short."

"We will." Tali smiled, "Thank you for your assistance."

"Our pleasure." Aahlun nodded curtly as he turned to leave, "Once you're situated, give me the signal and I'll have the SFC informed. Good luck out there."

That said, they promptly boarded the _Rokuran_ which interior lighting was currently inactive. Tali was first in, and kept a hand at the nearest surface as she slowly traversed the vessel. A hiss followed as Nao closed the airlock behind them before they moved to the ship's small crew quarter that would serve as their temporary home. As according to required specifications it was thoroughly well padded with insulation that would keep their heat signatures hidden from whatever cursory scans the SFC might throw their way.

"Rather cramped, this place." Kefila muttered as she surveyed the sparse space, "Ain't going to be fun, being stuck here for ancestors knows how many days."

Kal shrugged nonchalantly, "I've been to worse places."

"Likewise." Tali expressed, the narrow place quite idyllic compared to what she experienced back in the Gobi Factory on Earth. That place was nothing short of an unmitigated nightmare. Given the choice and lack of need she would never again step into such a place. But she supposed that was inevitable if she was going to participate in battle against the kurozu again. She shuddered at the memory, then steeled herself. "Get the door sealed."

"Doing." Nao replied, the last to enter again.

Once it was closed, Tali brought up her omni-tool and sent Aahlun the single-tone signal. No more than a few minutes passed before the _Rokuran_ 's engines were activated and it began to stir then lift from its resting place.

"Settle down and try to take it easy." Tali told the others, "In a few days time, we'll be in the midst of battle."

* * *

 _Three days after..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Kurma-class Frigate "Camelot"

"Checkmate." Ultimo declared as he took out Vice's king with just a pawn, "How many victories does that make now?"

Vice scowled at the chessboard between them like he intended to break it… along with the table it stood on, "Again. I won't hold back anymore..."

The flame-haired Grand Aspect shrugged mildly, "Well, I do hope so." and did not mention the twenty-eight times his coarse colleague made similar claims.

"Shut it."

Once all the pieces were put back in place, they rolled the dice to determine who would make the first move. Vice as it turned out pulled the long straw and with a haw of a laugh pushed his leftmost pawn two paces forward.

Ultimo in turn advanced the one in the middle of his line, and the game was on. Unfortunately it would not last for long as the fellow Grand Aspect in question was quite lousy at this type of game. In less than fifteen moves he took the king once again.

"One more match." Vice growled.

With a sigh, he complied and they repeated the pattern for two solid hours… at which end Ultimo desperately wished he had Regula here instead as his chess partner. Vice only managed to corner him once so far, and all it took was the single move of a knight to untangle it. There was simply no challenge.

It reached the point he looked almost pleadingly to Milieu who for all this time contented himself through meditation and the browsing of reports Sophia shared.

"Have the fools moved at all since a day ago?" Vice growled as he had Ultimo put the pieces back in position for another futile bout.

"Not in the least." Milieu softly spoke, attention fixed at a single image of the Battle and Supply Station that loomed in the Atapo System, "According to the _Kunato_ , there has been no signal traffic for the better part of eighteen hours."

Ultimo looked on the image, and could not help but thinly smile at its mushroom-like design. It roughly constituted a several kilometer long thick trunk covered in docks protected by an exceedingly heavily armed and armored 'hat'. At all times it was angled so to present the top of its 'hat' toward the relay.

But because it was not large enough to carry sufficient supplies for thousands of ships in its interior, all the cargo pods were clumped together on tethers that extended from the 'hat' like several hundred of kilometers-long chains. It was a real piece of work, and in its shadow those super-capital ships Sophia and Orgullo reported in about more than a week ago lingered, obscured by the thousand fresh warships of various classes that arrived over the next few days. That pushed the current number of alien warships present in the 'neighboring' system up to a daunting tally of nine thousand. If not for the limitations of passage enforced by the relays, those could have easily defeated the Dôji Navy through sheer weight of numbers.

But what Milieu was captivated by currently was not the size of this armada, but the complete silence between each one of the thousand warships bunched together in the station's proximity. For all the aforementioned time, they had maintained a perfect blanket silence.

"Sophia has theorized," Milieu continued, "that this lack of activity is due to the crews undergoing rituals."

"Rituals?" Vice chuckled savagely, "They pray rather than train. Fools."

"I suspect they've gone through countless drills before this with their next offensive in mind. Now they just need to find their center. More importantly, this if true could mean their attack is going to take place soon."

Suddenly the lights flared, which could only mean one thing. Orgullo has called the crews to battle stations.

Milieu acknowledged this with all the calm of a mountain, and showed no urgency as he waited for the next set of data to be dispatched for his perusal, which was very prompt in its arrival. And from there for the next few hours they read the influx of information provided piecemeal by the _Kunato_ as it sent drones through the relay at the same rate as they were shot down.

Before their eyes, the thousand-ship fleet like a school of fish peeled from the station and formed up with relatively rapidity into an increasingly comprehensive attack formation, which ironically was not so different from the Dôji Navy's defensive formation.

Ultimo suspected the turians would take on the lion's share of the effort, only to see the first lines comprised entirely of asari warships of mostly cruiser tonnage, all as one massive if awkward vessels that vaguely resembled the stylized front half of whale sharks. A characteristic they just so happened to share with the Tenjo. Behind them formed an eclectic mixture of turian, salarian and batarian warships with a few auxiliary units here and there crewed by the more minor species to participate in the war effort, Volus bomber craft being the most notable.

Among these ships there seemed to be a total of five dreadnoughts. Three Atrin, an Athamere, and an Etro.

Furthest in the rear, all of the thirty super-capital ships formed up.

And finally before the last probe was expended and destroyed, an additional fleet hundreds strong of all sorts of sizes just jumped in that took up position in front of the asari. "All of their cards have been revealed to us." Ultimo said, breaking the sudden silence.

"Maybe so, maybe not." Milieu somberly shook his head as he stood and flexed his powerful claws, fully resolved to partake, "We'll just have to take a good close look. Now..." he grimly smiled, "shall we?"

* * *

 _Eleven minutes later…_

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Shiva-class Cruiser "Nebuchadnezzar"

"So it begins..." Pardonner said, the voice itself lost in the vacuum as he lingered atop the cruiser's hull. For hours he had sat there and meditated in the utter quiet space provided until the ship suddenly shifted and the fighters latched onto its hull disengaged with admirable synchronicity.

Battle was about to commence.

Out the ship's airlock a flummoxed crew member came and approached him, looking very embarrassed for it as he tried to bow but only managed to upend himself in the process. The Captain sent out an inexperienced one for sure.

He waved a gauntlet for the kid to approach, positively paternal in his manner.

"Enemy fleet accounted for." the minor dôji mouthed somewhat like a fish on land, "It will come through in a minute."

"Less." he stated in return. Confident that as the _Kunato_ retreated from the relay, the Sword Armada has perhaps not shown everything. "Get back inside, boy. It's not safe here."

"A-aye." the youngster fell head over heels as he turned and made his way back.

No sooner did the airlock close before the relay blossomed with activity. Pardonner narrowed his eyes and watched as what came through first was not the expected warship line, but a swarm of fighter craft. Unlike the case with warships, fighters could transfer through with relative impunity. Pardonner watched with morbid fascination as thousands of Seph, Aleida, and Kharak cruised through, split up by squadron, and promptly cleared the immediate area of debris through a generous usage of missiles.

Next to penetrate into the system provided an odd sight. A fleet that carried a complete lack of uniformity. A mishmash of unarmed ships packed in too close a formation that grew not much looser as it pushed from the relay, only accounting for local debris. After a point, its component ships pivoted to present their largest surface to the defending fleet.

"A wall, huh. Sacrificial drones." Pardonner observed before it became apparent that Orgullo had had enough and ordered all cruisers to open fire. The _Nebuchadnezzar_ shuddered as it with the hundreds of other Shivas unloaded their spinal accelerators against this makeshift wall to try and pick it apart before the armada could properly pile out.

It was not wholly successful, for the drone fleet had not even the slightest amount of air to decompress, and only the most basic components necessary for ship operation seemed to be functional. Every single one of these drones were produced from junkyard-derived hulks as a pure physical barrier. Dozens of hulls broke and shattered as the barrage reached the wall, but the layered nature of this wall prevented for now gaps from forming.

Behind it, the fleets of the Sword Armada assigned to this offensive entered the system in earnest. First in line was a rough concave wall made up exclusively of Tevuras.

Pardonner wondered why it wasn't the turians who spearheaded the advance, but understood as the Brahmastras commenced firing at long last, their spinal laser cannons able to penetrate the drone wall altogether and landed hits on each their Tevura. But instead of inflicting true penetration as has happened in every previous case, the areas struck on the asari hulls instead simply pulsed white-hot as the energies from the lasers were dispersed.

That's why the asari were chosen to go in first, because of their trump card: Silaris armor.

Asari warships offensively aren't even half as powerful as their turian equivalents or agile as salarian equivalents, what they do have in their favor is their incredible resilience to kinetic and heat energy thanks to the armor technology in question. This resilience inherent because its material, carbon nanotube sheets woven with diamond Chemical Vapor Deposition, are crushed by mass effect fields into super-dense layers able to withstand extreme temperatures. A process that also compensates for the diamond's brittleness.

"Hoh." Pardonner mused, "Looks like their General's really thought this through."

From behind the Tevuras, a hundred other ships eagerly joined in, and allowed the battle to begin in earnest.

* * *

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; CIC.

"Our fleet's deployment is progressing perfectly, General."

That was what General Adrien had hoped for, and could not help but smile at how well this plan of his had paid off. Combined, the ablative barrier provided by the Scrap Fleet and the incredible hardiness of asari warships created a perfect spearhead that allowed them for the first time to establish and broaden a foothold in the H-1 System.

And given this success, the operations on Korlus would get the approval to mass yet more Scrap Fleets for future offensives.

Still, one can not rely exclusively on degraded hulks to screen an advance. This war had shown that because of the bottlenecks provided by mass relays' very existence, warships designed specifically to function as bulwarks are needed. Already he had on his mind a Heavy Cruiser design that put an emphasis on exceedingly heavy armor and powerful kinetic barriers, its purpose entirely being to protect their assigned fleets rather than destroy the enemy.

"Very good." he said, "Order all assets forward, and hold the line until the Calestrin are in position to deploy the Vorastunn!"

Both of the names are old ones that haven't seen much mention since the Krogan Rebellions. Back then the Turian Hierachy had only just encountered the Citadel, and an idea sprang up amidst the chaos to engage in a joint effort specifically to produce military assets that could counter solidly the unending krogan armies at the time without resorting to orbital bombardment. Academia joined with academia, including turian ones, to this end.

That it also helped tighten relations between Citadel-affiliated species and the newcomers is also worthy of note.

Scientists and engineers of half a dozen species knocked their heads together, and produced a number of stealth-integrated systems and unique designs hitherto unseen. All of which were centered around the Elcor-build Calestrin-class Super-Transports, and the special units it was created to ferry and deliver: The Vorastunn.

Until the Genophage, these formed the cornerstone of Citadel strategy both offensively and defensively with tremendous success. And now they would contribute to their success on the Dôji Front.

"Our losses are mounting, General." XO Abalus reported.

"As expected." Adrien nodded, viewing the haptic displays of fleet statuses.

Contact were lost with numerous Tevura as they were eventually picked off under repeated laser strikes that either finally effected penetration and vaporized the crew, or simply overheated the hull so much the crews are dying from heatstroke. Or more mundanely they were shot to pieces by massed mass accelerator impacts as the opposing Shivas focused their fire through growing holes in the Scrap Fleet.

But likewise, the synthetics suffered casualties as almost three dozen cruisers were either destroyed or so heavily damaged they were forced to break away. That no more than that were taken down as his forces on their side of the relay passed four hundred would have been pretty surprising to some, but Victus expected no less. The dôji demonstrated effective use of blanket jamming that put the Sword Armada's EW capabilities hard to the test. And their nifty Defense Frigates worked hard to protect their larger cousins.

And in the no man's land between the respective armadas, frigates and fighters in their thousands dueled frantically against their equivalents for a breakthrough on either end. Engaging in enormous dogfights that filled the dark space with strobes of light.

For his benefit, Abalus opened connection to one of the active fighter feeds and provided a first person view of a Kharak's ongoing attack on one of the hulking fighters used by the dôji. While not nearly as agile, they are sufficiently fast and heavily armored to have a chance. But in this case the fighter in question performed a slashing strafe through an already engaged group of Seph rather than attempt to uselessly make an attempt to round about on its pursuer. Eager for payback for the losses of his salarian comrades, the turian pilot punctured the Kalki repeatedly.

That is, until an incredibly focused and needle-thin beam of light slashed through the space between them… close enough that the Kharak flew right into it, and the feed crackled into static.

"Source." Adrien ordered.

"Source found and confirmed, sir." Abalus was quite succinct, "It's the Ghost."

One of the anomalies. "Put it on screen."

"Doing, sir." he dryly followed through.

Just twenty kilometers distant from the wrecked Kharak did the image focus on a single silver-maned dôji who stood regally upon the wide side of an inoperative Aleida, trailed from its gauntlets by seemingly unending filaments that from baroque growths glittered with starlight he knew were weapons' blasts.

It was utterly beautiful to the eye, and equally lethal as fighters were cut down in droves with unnerving accuracy despite the dôji's apparent inattention.

Even worse, it's slowly but inexorably approaching the fleet.

Abalus continued dryly, "The Jailor and Butcher have also been sighted."

Additional haptic images formed along the first, each doing what they apparently did best. The red-maned jailor had appeared amidst a wolf pack of Kurinth that currently moved along much slower than they ought to be and actively went about disabling them – often by separating them from their engines altogether. While the Butcher went about tearing apart frigates and fighters alike, being a bloodthirsty warrior without even trying to look like anything else.

"Sir. Matriarch Sineris and Admiral Farral requests permission to focus dreadnought fire on these select dôji."

"Denied. I want all dreadnoughts on theirs. At the moment they are far more dangerous." Adrien countermanded sternly, "Focus on avoiding the anomalies as much as possible without abandoning the lines."

Abalus forwarded his orders immediately, "Ah." he gasped at a new message, "We have confirmation that the ground-side batteries have commenced barrage."

Victus gritted his teeth and braced for the casualty readings as the facilities positioned on the planet below went active. While the Brahmastra are incredibly dangerous ship-killers, the cannons mounted by these facilities are something else entirely. Each one able to outgun whole cruiser groups. Dozens of ships vanished from the display as the barrage reached them, so overwhelming that entire lines just melted away. One of the shots found an Atrin and struck it head-on, making it scatter outward in a spectacular sequence of destruction.

"We won't last for long if this keeps up, sir."

"Just a little longer." he growled, angry about the losses sustained, "If we can get our Calestrin into position before the retreat must be sounded, we'll have a greater advantage in our next offensive."

"As you say, sir." Abalus nodded.

With utter focus did he continue to lead, and left his immediate subordinates who led the individual fleets to decide on how to go about those orders. But while at it, he didn't notice that amongst the Scrap Fleet that by now lay in tatters, one particular vessel had taken strangely independent action. Or that is, until the SFC notified Abalus of that particular issue.

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; Blockade Runner "Rokuran"

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit-!" Prazza screamed continuously without stop as he plunged their till now remote-controlled vessel through the utter carnage going on all around them, his training and experience being all that kept him rooted to the seat, and them all alive by extension.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up-!" Kal growled, matching him word for word, "Get us through this mess, now!"

"Open a line to the dôji ships. All of them if you may." Tali stressed, ignoring the hysterics of both males and the woman besides – except Nao who had gone down to the engine room the first chance she got.

A hiccup of silence followed as Prazza sharply steered the _Rokuran_ around the frame of a heavily damaged but still fighting and firing Tevura and raced for the empty space someplace below the axis of battle.

Tali fought down an onrush of nausea at that particular example of maneuver, unwilling to part with her dinner, and struck Kefila's seat in a bout of frustration, "Open a line, now!"

"O-opening!" the fellow engineer stuttered awkwardly, "It's all yours."

Absently did Tali notice that the transmission was set to spam all ships in orbit. If the SFC and Sword Armada haven't noticed the Rokuran's sudden independence, they would now. Tali found precious little reason to care about that little misstep and uttered into the receiver as such: "This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya vas Neema of the blockade runner _Rokuran_ calling to all dôji ships in range. We wish for safe passage. Please don't fire on us."

Just to be sure, she repeated it several more times – no doubt to the bemused irritation of most of those who listened, but she was past caring.

"This is Tali'Zorah-!"

"Tali!?" a voice that could only be Sophia's erupted from the panel in reply, more intense than she had ever heard it. The Aspect's image followed promptly, his pale blue eyes with yellow pupils focused solidly on her in disbelief, "Tali'Zorah, is that you?!"

Out of the corner of her eyes, Tali looked on as Kal and Kefila both looked on the dôji's image with a more than a little bit of wonder. "It's me." Tali replied with a shaking tone in her voice.

"W-what are you doing here? It's dangerous!" Sophia continued, his concern palpable.

She said with feeling; "I know, but we just had to come."

"Stupid." the dôji lashed out like a worried mother, "If you died in the crossfire..."

"Pardonner would have fixed us right back up. How is he, and his baby?"

"Hikari's all grown up, as for his father… he just overshot you a minute before you made the broadcast. That said, again, why did you come?"

She smiled, "To lend a chance to turn things out there around by at least a little bit."

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus.

With indifference in his step - unaware of what he had passed not even a while ago - did he lend his strength. Not to kill, but instead to disable and allow capture.

Pardonner landed himself feet-first onto the upper portion of a batarian cruiser with the speed of a hyper-velocity missile, yet without crumpling its hull in the least. Immediately after he knelt and planted his left palm against the ship and activated his Noh.

"Noh Power: Corporeal Manipulation. Full throttle." he whispered into the void and in a sense reached in to touch upon every member of the ship's crew as they milled about, panicked from him being closer than their GARDIAN system could depress.

And in one stroke, he deactivated their sense of vision, rendering the crew blind.

It wasn't permanent, but would last long enough for a group to come and collect them.

Not taking this well, a Seph that took offense at his presence came down toward him. Pardonner for a reaction stomped a foot just far enough through the hull to anchor himself but without compromising the ship's atmospheric integrity, then weathered the ship's gunfire as it strafed him, and at the last moment grabbed hard at its wing.

"Down you go." Pardonner said, as the fighter was tugged wildly off-course and crashed into the cruiser. Thankfully its kinetic barrier stopped the errant fighter from collapsing the ship's hull.

Nonchalant did he then release his grip from the wing that had been torn from the fighter proper during its collision, pulled his fastened leg out, and paced to the totaled Seph and with his Noh made its still alive but now senseless salarian pilot fall into blissful sleep.

"Hm…" he looked at the bleeding wound on the alien's shoulder that an errant fragment had torn open, threateningly close to an artery, "I had best close that wound of his before I move on..."

A mass accelerator courtesy of the cruiser's partner then passed straight overhead. No doubt in attempt to have him flee.

"Careful with my charges." Pardonner instead frowned at it, knowing they wouldn't risk their comrades' lives, "You'll get your turn in a bit."

None of those on it were pleased by the implications, but scowled as he turned his back on them and focused on the lone salarian before the tens of super-capital ships suddenly entered the system. "Now what?" Pardonner sighed.

* * *

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; CIC.

General Adrien blinked at the absurdity, "Blinded you say? All of them? With not one breach on the ship's hull? No damage at all?"

"That's what Admiral Be'kar's saying, sir." Abalus informed, unflappable.

As the battle went on, several oddities had begun to crop up. Aside from the unexpected appearance of perhaps the most infamous quarians in the galaxy from the middle of the Scrap Fleet, there was this impromptu blanket blindness across the entirety of a batarian crew, cases where pilots seemed to utterly forget what's been going on since their fiftieth name day, and whole crews that so abruptly started to riot that it looked like something out of a comedy routine.

The first issue he had dismissed altogether as unimportant at this time. And on a whole the other matters had happened only to a small minority of ships while the rest continued to function normally, as determined to see the battle through as when they started out. Casualties continued to mount, but so did the dôji's as the Sword Armada worked at it.

"Evacuate those crews if possibility allow, but be mindful of our objectives."

"On that note, sir: The Calestrin are through and fanning out. Only five minutes till they are in position."

"Good."

* * *

 _Four minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Brahmastra-class Dreadnought "Endymion"

No one could fail to notice the super capital ships' deployment, but Sophia still managed to find a moment to do just that as their ship shook from being grazed by the mass accelerated slug sent in by the enemy's lone Athamere.

The aliens started on a better footing this time, but they are turning it around. Soon as the enemy hit forty percent losses, it will only be a matter of time before a retreat's called for.

But what worried him was the purpose of those thirty ships he alongside Orgullo discovered those days ago. None of them had revealed it yet for all the few minutes they've been present. All they have done so far was travel beyond the axis of battle with their broad left sides presented to the planet.

"What are you here for?" Sophia asked the distant figures, "What is your reason for being?"

Then a collection of large hatches on each super-capital ship burst open by explosive decompression. Orgullo reacted immediately, "Ah. Something's happening!"

* * *

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; CIC.

"There we go." Abalus said, "All Calestrin are in position."

"Deploy the Vorastunn, now!" General Adrien called out, "Signal the withdrawal once they're clear!"

"Yes sir."

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Brahmastra-class Dreadnought "Endymion"

"Huh?" Sophia inclined his slender form toward the haptic screen, quite unable to believe what happened. All sensors registered that every one of the thirty vessels discharged from their interior a number of massive objects, which then proceeded to vanish from their sensors altogether. No more than a burst of heat happened… then nothing.

Without aplomb, every one of the thirty super-capital ships pivoted and started on their way back to the relay. "Looks like they're retreating." Orgullo muttered, something evident as across the lines, dozens at a time broke off in a disciplined and well-practiced manner and headed back.

"I see that," Sophia said to that, thoughtful, "but what did those ships just drop off? Did they come just to do that?"

"Don't look at me. I have not a clue."

"It looks like whatever those objects were are sporting some kind of stealth technology. Only explanation for why they vanished off our sensor grid like that."

"Well then, we'd best get cracking," Orgullo cracked his knuckles, "And find them before something bad happens."

Sophia agreed, but worried that it was already too late to do anything about it for now.

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Orbit.

Digeris.

It was one of the first worlds colonized by the Turian Hierarchy when they expanded beyond the borders of their home system. A world that up through the centuries experienced many a crisis, the most crowning being a legendary battle that took place in its orbit during the Krogan Rebellions. But none of these were more iconic than its very first crisis.

At some point early in its development, the city of Vorast was established across an expansive stretch of what was counted as a savannah that unknown to the city's builders also was a host to an organism that by chance wound up there a couple of decades before the turians first set foot on that world. For many years this organism remained put in the earthy depths, until the day came when it finally became fully grown and decided to emerge through the city's main street to announce its general displeasure at not having this place to itself. It was the very first time the Turian Hierarchy encountered one of the dreaded Thresher Maws.

Without flinching, this enormous creature fought a one-worm war against the growing interstellar power and was eventually brought down, but not before it had with claws and torrents of acid torn a hefty chunk off the three regiments sent in to do battle. It was an incident that left a mark on the turians' collective psyche.

They named it Vorastunn.

And centuries later, when the Turian Hierarchy for the first time engaged in joint research and development efforts with alien species with the goal of creating new technologies to help stymie the great Krogan threat of the time, the name for one of two resulting centerpieces in the arsenal that the effort created just fell into place.

Among the entry vehicles of the galaxy, the Vorastunn was and still remains the most unique, and so outrageous in concept that many of those who were born in the wake of the Krogan Rebellions grew quick to dismiss these things as nothing more than fantasy born from an imaginative if not outright insane mind. And who could blame them?

Even those who believed it existed thought most of the things about it greatly exaggerated. They called it a glorified drop pod.

And they were wrong. The things they were told weren't exaggerations. It isn't a drop pod.

It is a drop _base_.

A literal base on demand that can be placed onto a planet from orbit even while fully staffed.

The Vorastunn outwardly resembled the bastard child of a stake and a drill. And it was equipped with as powerful an element zero core as they could fit onto it, with ample heat sinks, dampeners, and a dozen sorts of additional redundancies and safeties. Everything necessary to make sure the drop base with its living cargo of a thousand soldiers and support personnel could survive the trip to whatever surface Command saw fit to dump it into.

And for cases such as this, the Vorastunn came with a purgeable tactical jump thruster for the sole purpose of getting into low orbit faster in case it had to be dropped off from high up or outside a planet's orbit. Once there, it was uncoupled from the drop base and left behind.

Additionally, in order to give the Vorastunn and its battle ready crew the ability to give precisely zero shits about enemy global and orbital supremacy, and engage the enemy without fear of discovery or orbital bombardment, the Vorastunn was made fully stealth capable, along with every vehicle, and every suit of armor that were made in the same project that created this technological abomination. All of which were so prohibitively expensive that since the Krogan Rebellions were concluded, they were immediately put into mothballs – in case another war of similar scale come to pass.

And such a war has finally come.

Thirty Calestrin were deployed in this operation, each of them carried five Vorastunn. That makes a total of a hundred and fifty Vorastunn committed to this operation that carried to the surface of the planet the dôji call Nirvana a total of one hundred and fifty thousand men and women under arms. A veritable army made up mostly of turians and elcor because even with all the safeties in place only these of the Citadel-aligned species are hardy enough for such a manner of deployment.

To say that the Vorastunn's very existence is utter anathema was not so far from the truth. It was insane, unbelievable. Yet those behind it were mad enough to have thought of the design, tried to make that monstrous fantasy into reality, and made it work against all expectations and belief.

With the entirety of the dôji sensor net focused on the stars, at the relay itself, only the synthetic armies on the ground noticed something was off as exactly a hundred and fifty fiery meteors streaked across Nirvana's skies as they in each their own slightly different directions made way to predetermined landing locations across the globe.

One of them circled the planet twice before it plunged toward the planet's equator. And just a minute before impact let out from its rear an enormous transparent chute that in conjunction with the drop base's powerful element zero field slowed its fall. At the count of twenty, a high-yield missile was launched from the Vorastunn's lower end that struck deep into the ground far below, where it detonated with sufficient power to loosen the ground into a giant plume of sand and dirt. A plume that scattered as the Vorastunn arrived, and thanks to the oscillating drill system that ran along its exterior dipped through the surface till the point it was all but buried in the sand and came to a full stop.

Its purpose at an end, the chute finally disconnected and was left for now to drift in the storm currently ongoing.

Deep inside in one of the pods that filled the crew compartment, General Corinthus coughed as the enforced stasis was lifted and he in his protective armor reflexively tried to move against the green shock gel that filled every compartment and stasis pod to help protect the crew and equipment. He quickly restrained himself from the useless effort and laid still while the liquid filters slowly worked to suck away the gel and deposit it into special tanks, and beyond the Vorastunn's solid hull and into whatever crevice existed between it and the surrounding walls of sand. In the most ideal situation this helped to further hide the Vorastunn from heat sensors.

Hoping for that however was of little use. Corinthus remained in place and waited till the gel had depleted beyond a certain level before he finally moved, if only just enough to get his pod opened so he could sit up.

From there, he heard countless groans of neighboring pods as his crew tried to get out and back on their feet. A few of them had already succeeded, one of whom hurried toward him.

"Are you well, General?" Nyreen asked as she knelt next to him.

"I'm alright." Corinthus hit his back with an armored gauntlet, "Did every drop base make it?"

"Almost. #34 did not survive the landing. Casualties estimated to be total."

He slumped and sighed his resignation. They were prepared from the onset, well aware of the risks involved. Every trooper knew what might happen and had every chance to pull out, but they came anyway. At the very least those who died in this case did so instantly, "Estimates be damned. We are a thousand short… no way around that. We still have enough to do the job, and that's what's important."

"Yes sir." her helmet inclined.

"What about the fleet?"

"It has left, sir. We are alone."

Corinthus nodded, "Yes we are. Now go and get everyone on their feet. We have preparations to make..."

"Yes, sir."

"Now it's our turn, the army's turn, to do some damage."

* * *

 **Author notes:** And there we have it. I wanted the Sword Armada to enjoy some progress in their campaign, so I set the conditions for a ground war to be made possible without making the dôji position untenable, though for certain this wouldn't have worked out without some crazy assets.

 _Edit:_ Fixed and re-uploaded the chapter. Due to a misunderstanding I decided to alter the last segment so the Vorastunn-class Drop Base, which is actually a fully technological creation, an oversized drop pod capable of transporting a regiment and act as a base for said regiment, isn't mistaken for a biological giant space monster.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:** **Path** **to Yggdrasil**

* * *

 _Two hours after the Second battle of H-1-4..._

 _Location:_ Serpent Nebulae; Citadel; Council Chambers.

"This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya vas Neema of the blockade runner _Rokuran_ calling to all dôji ships in range. We wish for safe passage. Please don't fire on us."

For the second time it was that they played this recording to a crowded Council Chamber in this private session where the general mood hung on the verge of being flammable. Just one lit match, one more cause for outrage, and the room would be set to explode spectacularly. All of it directed at the haptic image that stood on the central podium, the image of Admiral Rael'Zorah of the Quarian Migrant Fleet who looked positively tiny as he listened to what his very daughter had proclaimed with what Tevos believed to be pungent disbelief.

"Explain this to me, Admiral." Sparatus spoke before the tenuously still chamber with dangerous calm, "How is it that your daughter, who you assured would be under more or less constant surveillance, ended up on the Dôji Front?"

Rael'Zorah shook his head, dismayed, "This is impossible." he said with a shaky voice, "All this time she has been on the Neema. Impossible... unless..."

"We have confirmed as to her identity." Valern dryly joined, arms folded behind his back, "Her voice, every tone and nuance, is a complete match with our prior records of her, and the STG has confirmed the disappearance of a quarian salvage team on Korlus. A team led by one Vala'Mal vas Qwib-Qwib."

There was some... scattered amusement across the chamber at the ship name. Thankfully in this silence it did not take long to subside. Such behavior is unbecoming.

"Vala'Mal..." Rael'Zorah spoke breathlessly, "The only way my daughter could have gotten away from under our very noses is if she had help from on high..."

"Or your surveillance just isn't good enough, clan-less." wheezed Din Korlack, Ambassador of the Vol Protectorate, from his chair.

"Chastising disapproval;" his elcor colleague, Calyn, exclaimed flatly in a rare show of glibness before the quarian could bring a scathing retort, "such slander is inappropriate. Curious; were not those inflicted by dôji brainwash reported as treated and stable?"

"Both former Spectres and their candidate responded favorably to the treatment." Jondum Bau, the on-site representative of the Spectres, spoke up solemnly, "Liara T'Soni and Tali'Zorah on the other hand did not. It was reasoned that they would better recover in a more homely setting."

"And because of that lapse of proper judgment, we got a lunatic on the loose." Din snorted, "Good job."

Calyn seemed to slump, "Resigned sigh; Din..."

"She is unbalanced, I know." Rael'Zorah growled with a finger pointed at the volus ambassador, "But I will not tolerate such flagrant disrespect."

"Reality does not quite agree with you there, clan-le-" Din replied icily, but did not get to end his sentence as an annoyed Calyn gave him a nudge which coming from an elcor was only two steps short of a full bodyslam. "Wah!"

"No offense was meant, I'm sure." Tevos interjected diplomatically before it got worse, "Admiral, we gave our approval for the removal of her tracking collar, and trusted her surveillance onto you. This failure constitute a breach."

"I am aware of that, Councilor." Rael'Zorah replied with forced calm as he rose to his full height, "We will get to the bottom of what has gone wrong and fully intend to share what we find."

"That would be appreciated, Admiral." Tevos nodded, pleased, "We wish you good fortune in your investigation."

In turn, the quarian also nodded before his image faded. Sparatus filled the resulting silence quickly: "Apologies for the wait, General, and thank you for bringing this first to our attention."

"No apology is required, Councilor." Victus' image appeared on the podium, at attention. "I understand."

Valern raised his shoulders by a fraction, "Good. Now if you please, full report."

With a prompt confirmation, he began.

* * *

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; Conference Chamber.

For the next hour Adrien with the help of a presentation thoroughly laid out the events of what has already come to be known as the Second Battle of H-1-4 – disregarding the numerous skirmishes set between the two major battles – in meticulous detail from its preparations to its immediate aftermath. About the order of battle, how well the Scrap Fleet performed to protect the Armada and allowed it to form up without excessive losses, the moment when Tali'Zorah revealed herself, and the successful deployment of the drop bases which concluded the battle.

"Are there any questions, Councilors?" Adrien continued.

"Yes." Valern droned out as he viewed the presentation, "I am curious about the designations you have provided the dôji vessels. Was it necessary to slap on a slew of odd words?"

"Believe it or not, Councilor, those designations aren't something we made up with on some bizarre whim." Adrien replied with a subtle shrug, "They are the fruits of attempts by Admiral Farral's STG teams to remotely hack into the dôji databases over the course of this recent battle and previous skirmishes."

He continued, "Unlike the Geth that far as we are aware simply assign serial numbers to their vessels, the dôji actually follow a naming convention we have determined is based on one of their creators' ancient mythologies – though we have not the specifics."

"It matters not." Sparatus argued, "A hard blow has been struck against the dôji menace on this day, and next time. provided that the efforts of General Corinthus bear fruits, a harder blow will be dealt in the next offensive."

"Hopefully enough to effect a solid breakthrough." Tevos agreed, eager as her turian colleague but solely for her desire to minimize blood spent.

"Indeed." Ambassador Din huffed, "However expendable, Scrap Fleets are expensive. Avoiding the entrance of further penetration by lunatics into the Dôji Front will require additional exorbitant security fees atop of current expenses."

Calyn seemed to glare at his volus colleague, but said nothing.

"That brings us to the next order of business, on whether to authorize for further Scrap Fleets to be constructed." Tevos forwarded.

"All present should by now have been made well aware of the merits of this asset, its cost, as well as the rate of attrition with and without it." Valern nodded, "We will now take a ten minute recess for all representatives to review the information before we take this to the vote."

"Thank you for your time, General." Sparatus told him, tone mild, "We will let you know of the result."

"My pleasure, Councilor." Adrien replied in a strict manner and severed the connection with a gesture, freeing himself up for the opportunity to return to his duties as the fleet currently orbiting the _Endless Vigil_ underwent repairs and resupply while he waited for the vote to take place. He was not to be disappointed by its outcome.

* * *

 _Location_ : Utopia System; en route to Eden Prime; Blockade Runner "Rokuran"

"Come on now, just a little further."

No more than five hours had passed since they vacated the battlefield and set course for the coordinates Sophia helpfully provided with the promise of proper lodgings. In spite of this promise coming from a synthetic, her crew took to it with desperate enthusiasm. It was easy to understand why as during their three days of self-imposed isolation, not one of them managed to sleep at all. They were far too stressed out by the terrifying lack of control they had over the _Rokuran_ in transit, and the ever-looming danger of discovery.

Tali'Zorah had no idea if it was possible to suffer from adrenaline rush continuously for so many days, but it was all that made sense to her. And with danger now firmly absent, the adrenaline petered out with all the inevitability of the universe behind it and allowed their sheer mental exhaustion to catch up with a vengeance. Every moment they tried to move forward was another moment that tiredness threatened to douse them into blissful sleep.

Sophia had seen through their fatigue once the initial surprise over their appearance wore off, hence the promise. To help them stay awake on the way he also provided them with frequencies so to allow them access to the local media.

A gesture that turned out to be a blessing.

"I know…" Prazza growled unsteadily as he struggled to keep their ship en route, "Just an hour more and we can sleep all we want. More if the synthetics decide to do us in..."

"They won't." Tali sternly told him, "Kal, are you doing fine?"

Kal'Reegar, who had less to do than the rest of them, focused on the current news broadcast with all his strength, "Nice and steady, ma'am."

Currently the news anchor spoke of one of the many ships destroyed during the battle – a Brahmastra, whatever it is, that an Etro had managed to put a round through – with two more such ships currently undergoing repairs. Of the aforementioned ship, only one crew member survived.

"You know, we could just stop and faint out here for a while." Prazza argued with a toss of his head, "Ain't like we're obstructing traffic."

"In case you haven't noticed, Prazza, we are sitting on the edge of a war zone." Kal scoffed, rubbing his visor the way he would have done to the temples, "By now all of Council space probably knows that Tali's here, and will likely deem her a lost cause. If we stopped now to sleep, we'd present to the Sword Armada a sweet and juicy stationary target to snipe."

"Their ROE doesn't allow such actions against unarmed vessels without sufficient cause, Kal'Reegar." Nao yawned in from the engine room, "Such as this doesn't count as sufficient cause."

"True, but the batarian ROE does." Kal argued. Tali nodded along as she watched a footage of rows upon rows of newly captured POWs dressed universally in orange-colored overalls being transported to holding facilities on Nirvana, and recognized Gauge among the dôji who surrounded them. A brief snippet was given next to the kitchen of one such facility, full of oversized pots used to cook large amounts of stew for the prisoner population, "We best play it safe and keep on moving until we're secure."

Prazza sighed, "As secure as we can be with synthetics all around us."

"Don't give us that lip, helmsman." Kal hissed sternly, "You signed up for this."

"I know. I was there."

"Cheeky..."

"Would you two please shut it?" Kefila groaned miserably, "You're giving me a headache."

A sullen silence settled between them for a fair while, excepting the occasional grumbles and the constant chatter brought by the continued broadcasts, the latest which featured a small debate carried out by a pair of blond dôji Tali thought of as pretty cute about general nonsense unrelated to the war effort. _It would seem even the dôji can't resist the allure of gossip…_

Time passed with agonizing slowness till finally they made their final approach of Eden Prime's orbit, and could see the lights of a grand city on the planet's night-side surface. It was astounding to see how much they've built in such short amount of time, though Tali suspected it came about as much to their synthetic nature as it did thanks to the massive ship in its orbit.

"What is that thing?" their helmsman leaned forward as he spotted it, "It's huge..."

Tali smiled, "That, Prazza, is the _Tenjo_."

"Looks a lot like the _Destiny Ascension_ , doesn't it?" Kefila observed, "Kind of strange."

"Both were based on prothean ship-designs." she shrugged, "Have they called us yet?"

"No, but I'm going to. Don't try to stop me." Prazza responded and cleared his throat before he pressed a button, " _Tenjo_ Flight Control, if there's one in there, this is the _Rokuran_ requesting permission to dock."

"Copy that, _Rokuran_. We're here and have been expecting you." the answer came promptly, bluntly formal, "Please proceed to dock #10. Coordinates provided."

"Thank you, _Tenjo_ Flight Control. Taking her in."

"Finally a shred of professionalism." Kal muttered under his breath.

Kefila snorted, "Don't even start."

Thankfully it did not take long to make the approach as the prospect of safety and rest sapped them of much that remained of their strength. At some point, during the final approach of the assigned dock, Prazza lost control of the _Rokuran_ and it slotted into the assigned dock peacefully, followed by its closure from space. "Welcome to the _Tenjo_ , _Rokuran_." Flight Control addressed them, "Aspect Paresse will be with you shortly."

 _I don't believe I've met an Aspect by that name before..._ Tali ruminated as she recalled her time on Earth and the last time she had been on the massive colony ship. "Get up and muster to the airlock. We've got an official coming."

A request her crew responded to in lackadaisical manner. "I'll take point." Kal announced as he with effort straightened up and left the bridge.

"Of course." she allowed, and called for their engineer, "Nao, get to the airlock."

Kal true to his word was first to step outside, shotgun drawn and raised. He tried his best to seem composed, but Tali could plainly see that he was like the rest of them set to surrender to his own desperate need to lose consciousness. Now to make sure he wouldn't shoot at the dock workers who are on their way through, many of whom ceased their work to watch the quarian procession leave their ship.

"I didn't expect them to be so… small." Nao observed with a little gasp that bordered on a squee, most of the dôji present almost as small in stature as would be usual for organic children. Her eyes particularly fixed on a synthetic who hefted along a crate many times his size over his head.

Tali smiled at the aging engineer's reaction, "Many among them are, but some grow pretty big."

Prazza's tone of disbelief was similar to hers, "I thought they would be more… machine-like."

"While they are synthetic, they're in many ways like organics." Tali explained as she spotted for the Aspect supposed to come see them, "Especially in their sensibility." but saw only dockworkers who still observed them from a distance while whispering curiously to one another, a few of them gazing pointedly at Kal who held them practically at gunpoint.

Tali put a hand on his shoulder to make him lower said tool as she strode ahead of the group that had clustered together just a second's distance from the ship's entrance. It seemed like a sliver of suspicion had revived now that they are finally face to face with the synthetics, "It's okay. They won't harm us."

"Ma'am..."

"I'm fine." she told him and took some cautious steps forward, about to make an inquiry to the nearest of the synthetics who smiled interestedly at her when a strange dôji stalked into view. He was impossible not to notice and altogether very tall and very thin, gracelessly so, with elongated striped gauntlets, unclothed chest, and his face was shrouded by a mask of cloth.

At first the gaggle of smaller dôji did not notice him as he passed through without say, but in a startled manner scattered and ran back to work once they did.

Behind her, Kal and the others shrank toward the _Rokuran_.

"Tali'Zorah, I presume?" the tall synthetic muttered lazily with a noticeable lisp in his voice.

"I am." Tali replied, "… Is this the first time we've met?"

"Correct." he yawned from behind the mask, sounding distinctly bored, "Paresse is my name. Aspect of Sloth."

That explained his lethargy. "Well, I'm glad to make your acquaintance."

"I'm sure." Paresse drawled, unmoving.

"That being said… I don't mean to be impolite, but I was told there would be lodgings available to us upon arrival."

He shrugged, "Yes, but your assigned accommodations are on the planet below. I came simply to inform you that Ultimo left Nirvana soon as he heard of you. He will arrive shortly."

"Hm, I understand." Tali nodded slowly, "Was sort of hoping..."

"Too distant." Paresse said, still not moving, "The _Tenjo_ 's habitation areas are sufficiently distant that you are better off waiting for his majesty."

"Fine. We'll do that then."

"Good. Now if you excuse me..." he looked like he was going to continue, but huffed an "Eh." and stalked off.

"… Welp, that could have gone better." Tali whispered. Kal with the others in tow finally edged closer as that the slothful giant grew more distant. "Kal, I told you to lower the weapon. We're not about to be attacked."

"He did not seem very friendly if I may say so, ma'am."

"I got more the impression that he was being lazy." she explained curtly, "Aspects' behavior usually reflects to the sin or virtue they serve as the embodiment of. His is sloth, so apathy is sort of his shtick I suppose. That said, Ultimo will be with us soon."

Nao tapped a pointed finger to her visor, deep in thought, "That's one of their highest leaders, isn't it?"

"One of three Grand Aspects, yes." Tali smiled, "He's-"

"Who cares about that right now?" Prazza interrupted irritatedly, "I know I just want a place to sleep. I'm just about ready to faint on my feet..."

"And I really wish you did faint so we who feel exactly the same can at the very least be rid of your bellyaching." Nao snapped, her patience literally hanging by a thread.

"It won't be long now." Tali promised before a patch of air just some ten feet away suddenly in a manner familiar to her gave off a strong burst of light that vanished as soon as it began to reveal a crimson-haired dôji of small stature whose porcelain skin and uniquely beautiful green and red eyes veritably shone in the dock's lighting. Ultimo stared at her and the others in wonderment before a smile graced his lips.

"When I heard you appeared during the battle," the Grand Aspect breathed, his voice soft and mild, "I could scarcely believe it." then gained an edge as he in turn admonished her like a worried parent would onto an overly rash child, "How absolutely reckless can you be?"

"I couldn't stand around doing nothing, Ultimo. Back home I was nothing but powerless." Tali replied firmly, though it was only as firm as her faintly trembling knees, "Here, together, we can make a difference."

Ultimo quirked a brow, curiosity lit, "How?" before he blinked, shook his head, and examined them with concern. Probably noting how their legs shivered, arms twitched, heads drooped, and how their eyes threatened to slip shut and stay that way at any moment. "No, before that: Let's get you on the way so you can rest."

"That… would be best."

"Okay." he walked past, and raised his arm, palm up in an unnecessary manner that seemed mostly for show to those not introduced to his Noh, and formed up a bright spatial ball between all of them. "Here you go. This will bring you to the suite we got prepared for you."

Kal asked cautiously as he stared, "What is that?"

"This, Kal, is a Spatial Ball." Tali volunteered, making her crew exchange quick glances in realization. It was not too long ago that she briefed them on what they would likely see and possibly be exposed to during their stay, including the Noh Powers that some dôji possess, and what few techniques she knew of, "As I brought up during the briefing, it's a technique that allows instantaneous travel between point A and point B."

"Is there no other way?" Nao bit her lip.

"Sure, but this one's the faster option." Ultimo provided helpfully, "I can call a transport if you prefer..."

"No, we'll take this." Tali decided, her voice as firm as her trembling knees, "Come on, people."

While they were still somewhat reluctant, Kal and the others finally obliged and they gathered round the mystical orb that continued to be suspended from Ultimo's extended gauntlet. Tali formed up with them and took the lead as she reached out and put a hand on the orb.

Instantly did the environment shift. The dock vanished in favor of a sparsely decorated living room that across one side sported a huge window that revealed the city outside. Tali did not care to look at this time. All she wanted was a bed, and waited as her crew materialized one by one, followed quickly by Ultimo himself who pointed at a series of doors, "Here we are." he announced plainly, "Beyond those doors are the bedrooms prepared for your use. I hope you have a pleasant rest."

Tali at that point had no idea how quickly they all took to the idea as she made for the door and opened to find what was possibly the most inviting bed she's ever seen in her life. With only the sound of doors opening and closing confirming that her comrades did the same, Tali closed her own door and slumped into the bed like a bag of bricks. All that kept her from immediately embracing sleep was the gasp of a dôji maid who had yet to vacate the suite, "Tali, is that you?" he asked.

She quickly recognized the voice and mostly inscrutable face, but could only acknowledge him for a moment before she was out like a light, "Promina…?"

* * *

 _Location_ : H-1 System; H-1-4; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Unflinching Pace"

Now, in the middle of a vast uninhabitable desert infested by murderous synthetics, more than ever, did Corinthus learn to fully appreciate the old reports on just how claustrophobic a vorastunn could be in full operation given its low ceilings, the narrow ladders, and not to mention the drop base's positively tiny CIC, a place with such little space that it was cramped with just three people.

He could feel the mild shiver of the floor as the installation's freight elevator that ran across nearly the whole length of its spine rumbled into activity, carrying a wealth of supplies and equipment crates from the storage chambers located in the bottom floors and up to the garage, including the parts required to build a Jirix IFV – basically a distant ancestor of the Seiri IFV currently in use by the Hierarchy Army. It was sparse, lightly built, fast, but has little armor to its name. A transport and light support vehicle not at all suitable for head-on assaults.

"General." Nyreen greeted with a formal nod upon his entry.

"Kabalim." Corinthus replied in kind before he focused on the radar, "What's our status."

"Green." she informed raptly, "No activity within range."

"What about the overhead fleet?"

"No movement. The synthetics seem entirely unaware of us."

Corinthus set his mandibles approvingly, "Good. Now we will see if these synthetics can be taken by surprise."

"It would be a sight to see." Nyreen commented dryly, "Sir."

He moved on succinctly, "Ensign Gravalax. Are the 8th through 10th Companies ready to proceed?"

"Aye, sir. All suits sealed. They require only the order to begin."

"Done. Equalize atmosphere then begin."

It took a fair few minutes to complete this as the garage was drained of the gases that was ideal for most space-faring civilizations, then replaced by the xenon and krypton that permeated H-1-4's atmosphere. The interior pressure was adjusted next, followed by the outside world's frigid temperatures.

"Crew status?" Corinthus inquired.

"No abnormalities." Gravalax reported evenly, "Shall I open the hatches, sir?"

"Proceed."

This was followed by a small shudder heard through the intercom as the sole heavy vehicle on board, an Excavation Tank, started up… ready to dig and set up the main tunnel. "Controlled opening will commence in ten."

Corinthus stared through narrowed eyes at the holographic overview of the _Unflinching Pace_ as the triple hatches soon started to inch open, followed by the Excavation Tank's ponderous advance.

Seconds passed, then minutes, as the vehicle bit into the soil and slowly but steadily opened a path. In its wake the assigned crews worked to set supports in place to ensure the tunnel won't collapse on them. "Progress is good. Conditions are favorable." the lieutenant said, her voice sharp. "We'll have a breakthrough in an hour."

"More than enough time for things to go wrong. Keep your guard up and an eye out."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

 _Ten hours later…_

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Hotel.

When Kal'Reegar woke from perhaps the most desperately needed sleep in his lifetime, it was to find himself in the most comfortable bed that he has ever had the luxury to lay upon. Sleepy as he was he never noticed how it so easily conformed to his shape with every consideration for his spine. It was truly a nice bed.

Still, now that he was fully refreshed there was no longer a need to stay in it. So he got out with a grunt and briefly surveyed the otherwise spartan accommodations prior to his entry into the similarly minimalistic room beyond that at the very least included a table and a couple of couches. For the moment it appeared he was the only one awake.

Then a door opened.

"Good morning, Mister." a dôji greeted as it entered with a slight bow of its largely inscrutable head, more robotic than the other ones he's seen thus far, "Did you have a pleasant rest?"

"… I did." Kal did not elaborate but admitted it all the while as he sized up the diminutive dôji who carried in its gauntlets a large mop and surmised that it wasn't much a threat. He was hesitant to strike a conversation, but getting to know these dôji was after all a primary objective. So he ventured on cautiously, "Who are you?"

"My name's Promina. A com dôji. I work here." it replied in a pleasant manner, not showing any hint of hostility, "And who might you be?"

He frowned, "Kal'Reegar. Migrant Fleet Marines."

"So you''re their protector?" Promina asked interestedly, "If so I must thank you for keeping Tali safe."

Kal mildly gaped, "You're familiar with her?"

"Indeed I am. We went together on a mission against the kurozu factory in the Gobi desert. Us and a handful of others."

"And you wound up working as a house maid?"

Promina's mask-like face turned a little pink, "This hotel was built with future organic guests in mind. Hoped to see those I worked with again, which turned out quite right." before he gasped and turned on his heel, "Before we go any further," and advanced into what looked like the kitchen, "would you like some breakfast? Kept a couple pots going for a while now, ready for the having."

"Well..." Kal started, before the dôji returned with a bowl filled with something that was steaming hot, a couple of utensils, and a glass of water dexterously held between its claws. Promina laid these out on the table and gestured.

"Dextro-based fried rice with ditto boiled peas, and a glass of water." it introduced, "Enjoy."

Initially he wanted to turn the meal down, not quite ready for meals made by synthetics. His gut however disagreed strongly, and he against logic sat himself in the nearest couch. Only pure survival instinct of a sort endemic to the quarian people stopped him from removing his visor.

"If you're worried about the possibility of infection," Promina observed his discomfort, "I assure you that the suite is clean. Additionally, Pardonner will be joining us soon."

Of the dôji Tali knew by name and told the flotilla about, that particular one stood out. "You mean… the one who restored Tali's immune system?"

"The very same." he heard Tali state as the door to her room flew open, the female very obviously smiling behind her visor, "Is he bringing his son along for the visit?"

"To my knowledge he isn't." Promina replied.

"Is that so." Tali sighed, "Must be a grown dôji by now, huh?"

"Indeed." it agreed, then switched topic, "It's good to see you again, Tali."

"Likewise, Promina." she replied casually and eyed the breakfast Kal had so far left untouched, "How's life been treating you?"

"Everything considered I've been fine." Promina replied as he made another trip into kitchen, and returned with another set of meal and drink and laid it out for her, "Don't know if Liara told you, but I briefly gained a bond mate."

"Congratu-" Tali sat on the bench, rubbing her palms together before she with startling suddenness removed her visor before she stopped, "Briefly?"

"Hira. He volunteered for the battle round Mt. Everest and died saving us from a Deus ex Machina that managed to reach the ship." the dôji's face turned a withered blue, its sadness readily apparent, "His parting gift for me the hours prior was pleasure and child. Mine… was the name I decided for our son, Benjamin, who has since grown up."

Tali nodded soberly as she plucked up a utensil and the bowl, "I'm sorry to hear that." and started to shovel in the fried rice and boiled peas. Kal looked to his own bowl and swallowed nervously before he very carefully took off the visor and started to eat too. To his surprise, not only was it edible... but very tasty and wholesome too.

"Hira was my first love. My second one's Jana, who I met on the _Tenjo_. We were just patient and nurse for a while, became friends, then we grew close." Promina continued, reflecting, "We eventually became bond mates, and we're now expecting. Other than that, I did some construction work, then started to work here. That brings us to the present, pretty much."

The synthetic continued, "And what of you?"

Briefly did Tali freeze solid before she continued to lump in food, "I was grounded. Not much happened."

She said that a tad too quickly, Kal noticed.

Promina also appeared to notice, but only hummed in response.

"Um, where did Ultimo go?" she quickly asked.

"To the Core. It's deep within that trunk-like structure at the center of Yggdrasil. You can see it in the distance through that window over yonder."

Kal made the turn to glance outside, and across the vast cityscape he could very clearly see what Promina referred to. As described it looked much like the trunk of a tree and reached far into the sky where it eventually split into countless branches that extended outward. A part of him wanted to question the reason to go to such a far-away place so soon after the effort of to coming to meet and transport them. A question the rest of him strangled into submission before he put it into words.

That dôji transported them casually across a distance that amounted to more than twice the planet's circumference at least. Compared to that, this is no different from going next-doors.

"Yggdrasil?" Tali probed.

"Ah, it's what the city's called. Named after the world tree of an ancient mythology." Promina informed before it stiffened considerably, "They're coming!"

"Who?" Kal burst from his seat while the synthetic hurried to what was presumably the suite's main entrance to open it then stood quickly aside, head bowed in reverence as Ultimo, having chosen a less obtrusive place to appear, slowly entered with another dôji in tow that carried itself with notable dignity.

"Pardonner!" Tali put the bowl down and rose in greeting.

"Tali'Zorah," it spoke calmly as it focused on her, "it's been a while."

"It has." Tali agreed, "How's Hikari?"

"Hale, healthy, and currently works at an ice cream parlor." Pardonner shrugged, "But I did not come just to exchange pleasantry."

"Oh?"

"To put it bluntly, we did not expect more organic visitors in the near future. Thus we do not have the infrastructure required to support organics in place yet – it having been an object of rather low priority. And for now I'm the only one who can provide medical assistance if some kind of complication crops up."

"So you're the one assigned to take care of us?"

Pardonner nodded once, slowly, "Two eyes, as often as I can spare them."

"Wait," Kal finally joined, "what you mean 'more organic visitors'?"

Tali likewise realized the meaning of those words, "You received other visitors before us?`

"Well, one's a batarian pirate who by some circumstance ended up here without knowing of our presence till it was too late to run off. He's currently doing community service at a farm. As for the other… he was here long before we came – if that makes any sense."

"That don't make much sense at all..." Tali grimaced, her lips formed into a straight line as she thought about it, "I don't think anyone's expanded into this cluster previously. Is he of a native species unknown to the galaxy at large?"

"His species isn't unknown. It's just not on the extant list."

"What do you mean?"

"… A prothean."

Now that was unexpected. Kal was quite unable to articulate any words at that knowledge. Tali too was flabbergasted beyond belief, "A prothean?" she echoed disbelievingly, "A real living prothean?!"

"I suppose he would have something dry to say to that." Pardonner scratched his chin thoughtfully, "But yes, a real living prothean. His kind built a cryogenic facility on this planet some fifty thousand years ago. But things happened and out of a million protheans he was the only one to survive onto the present day."

"Keelah..."

"Naturally we're going to have to see proof on that." Kal noted.

"Of course." Pardonner shrugged again, "Now if only your comrades would come out of their rooms."

"They're still asleep to my knowledge." Kal said, arms spread.

"They're not napping, they're listening at the door." it stated with slight annoyance, "I heard clearly how their heart rates spiked at the bombshell I just dropped on all of you."

With this knowledge Kal glowered at the nearest door, which had opened just enough to reveal a thoroughly shocked Prazza.

Tali reared her head, "But... Keelah... a live prothean. Imagine what kind of leverage that kind of knowledge would provide if it became commonly known..."

"Probably, but we won't seek to exploit that without his consent." Ultimo stated softly yet resolutely as he rejoined and took a seat on the middle of the opposing couch, "All of that said, I believe it's time you explained as to your scheme… Promina," he gave the minor dôji a meaningful look, "would you be a dear and bring out breakfast for everyone?"

"O-of course, sir." Promina did a quick bow and vanished into the kitchen.

While food was being brought, Tali sat back down, collected her thoughts, and began: "As you probably know, the galaxy at large hold little for you but contempt. The attempt I and those who were with me made to reason with them resulted in us being imprisoned and 'treated' on the assumptions that your kind brainwashed us into doing your bidding."

Pardonner closed his eyes and sighed, with a muttered thanks to Promina as he was given a bowl, "You don't say it, but I get the feeling your treatment constituted torture."

Tali winced, "They… weren't gentle. The others, I was told, suffered similarly. Almost no one believed us, and when I returned to the Migrant Fleet I was faced with similar disbelief. Not even my father and aunt were willing to take my words as anything but the result of indoctrination."

"Yet there's an almost there." Ultimo commented with a quirked brow.

"One such person is Liara's mother. And the other… is the whole reason why I'm here now. Admiral Zaal'Koris, member of the Admiralty Board, wants to believe me, and that peaceful coexistence with you is possible. He just require proof."

"And what manner of proof does he require?"

"To put it this way: Convince my crew that you are the genuine article, and we can make a statement the Admiral can use along with a couple other things to convince the Admiralty Board of your sincerity. If successful, you will have one less enemy in the galaxy... which may hopefully encourage outliers in the Citadel to make their voices heard."

"I see." Ultimo said interestedly, "Your Admiral has thought things through."

"He has… but there is one problem that could torpedo this whole opportunity."

Pardonner frowned, "And what would that be?"

"Well, it's basically comprised of both good news and some bad news." Tali wrung her hands nervously, "… The good news is that we know of the location of your missing Aspect."

"You know where Slow is?!" Ultimo exclaimed, sufficiently shocked that he stood, "Where?"

"On a planet called Noveria. How he got there I've no idea, but it leads to the bad news..." she continued, "He has been sighted waging a war against the Council… at the head of an army of Geth."

"Geth." Pardonner's frown deepened, the single word spoken as if to taste it.

Tali tightened her jaw, "Monsters not much different from the kurozu. Synthetics created by our ancestors some three hundred years ago. They used to be no more than machines for use in menial labor until we took their programming too far and they became self-aware, then turned on us."

"I take it they're the reason for your previous hatred of synthetic life."

"Toward the geth, Pardonner," she imparted onto her tone a tremendous amount of bitterness, "I feel little but contempt. They slaughtered us in the billions, and we would have suffered the same fate as the humans did had our ancestors not fled. Whatever the reason for that Aspect's activity, it complicates an already difficult process."

"You paint a most dire picture, Tali." Ultimo rubbed the back of its neck with a claw, the shoulders slumped, saddened by the prospect of even more kurozu-like synthetics in the universe, "Accordingly, given this new information, I believe a change of objectives concerning Operation Outreach is in order."

Pardonner gave his superior a pointed shrug, "Provided we can get it off the ground in the first place."

"I have much faith in you, friend."

"What are you talking about?" Kal queried before the dark-haired dôji could muster a doubtlessly groaned response.

"It's a plan to sneak past the blockade, then… basically socialize with anyone willing to hear us. There's a more covert part but it's largely harmless."

"Covert cultural exchange." Pardonner rolled his eyes as he elaborated, "Service wants to sing before alien audiences, but needs to be disguised as an alien to do so without getting the local defense force on his rear. Does that answer your question?"

He frowned, "We'll see."

"Good enough." Ultimo smiled and sighed, "A moot point if we cannot solve the stealth issue."

Tali nodded, "So you intend for those participating in this Operation Outreach to go and question Slow as to what he's doing?"

Ultimo replied with a nod of his own, softly confirming, "That's right. So please, the next time you contact this Admiral of yours, please tell him to not take no official action just yet until we clear that up."

"I can do that." Tali answered plainly, "Anything else?"

Briefly the synthetic tilted its head and looked up at the ceiling in consideration before it looked back at her and nodded, "Well, I would appreciate it if you asked him if a meeting between our nations in a more official capacity's within the realm of possibility in the time-frame of the operation."

"Doubt it's possible in the near future, but I can ask."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem." Tali smiled, relived, "I'm just glad to see some real progress."

"That's not progress, not yet." Kefila decided to finally join in as she emptied her given bowl with some relish, "First they have us to deal with. Not a step further before we acknowledge these dôji."

Tali blinked then rubbed her temples, embarrassed, "You're right, of course. I'm getting way ahead of myself."

"Let us call this meeting adjourned thus." Ultimo conceded as he rubbed and wheeled its slim shoulders, "Please, accept what hospitality we can offer. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Briefly did the flame-haired dôji bow before it disappeared, completely without dramatics. That left only Pardonner who beheld them evenly, "Well, now that all of our bellies are full, I suppose a little sightseeing is in order."

"It's a start." Kefila smiled, "Now about this singing 'Service' of yours..."

Tali mildly inclined with an amused expression, "She wants to see dancing dôji."

Pardonner arced a brow, "Is that so? Well, Service intend to hold a concert two days time. I suppose I can purchase a few tickets if you want me to."

"That would be great." Kefila nodded with approval.

"Now then, the sightseeing." Nao coughed, "You're going to show us around the city?"

"Naturally." Pardonner turned on its heel and walked toward the exit, "Follow me and we'll begin."

One by one, the quarians motioned to follow the slender dôji. Kal was silent all the while as they took the escalator to the ground floor and headed into the street which was practically flooded with synthetics that passed on each their business. He and his comrades with the likely exception of Tali stared at their environment as they mixed with a largely curious crowd, many of the synthetics briefly examining them in bouts of interest before they moved on. Kal was himself momentarily transfixed as he watched a passing dôji which lovingly doted on the much smaller synthetic that lay cradled in its arms, squealing softly at the attention.

"Parent and child." Tali leaned close and whispered, beaming.

At that, Kal found nothing else to do but chuckle. If nothing else, their days among these synthetics – provided they are truly as friendly and well-intentioned as Tali claimed and they appeared to be – would be interesting ones.

* * *

 **Author note:** Tali and the others have finally arrived at Eden Prime. Next chapter they will see the sights of Yggdrasil in earnest and more. Peaceful enough, until the ground war on Nirvana kicks off.

That aside, I can't believe how often I ended up having to edit the fifth chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Sudden Advance**

* * *

 _An hour later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil.

Back when she was young, before she left on her pilgrimage, Kefila'Kanna like most quarians her age felt little but boundless frustration at the crowds, the almost completely absent sense of privacy. She longed for the pilgrimage more than anything else, and waited in bated anticipation for that day to come. That time when her adventure began was glorious beyond mere words to describe, she felt more released than ever before, with a whole galaxy for the taking. Finally the time had come to spread her wings.

It only took a week before a sense of loneliness started to seep in.

At first it barely registered, some lingering sentiment at most. She managed to find work and went at it with great spirit, but no one found interest in befriending her. Most aliens simply ignored her and avoided contact. The few times they deigned to talk to her, usually only because circumstances demanded it for one reason or another, it was only done in the most perfunctory manner possible.

Over time, this weighed down on her till a dark night whereupon she returned to her tiny billet, heated up a cheap meal, then had no more than a taste of it in that mind-numbing silence before that sensation of loneliness fully boiled to the surface and she cracked. Her tears came and wouldn't stop in a bottomless bout of homesickness. Her frustrations about the crowd back home were supplanted by precious parts of it she previously neglected. The love of home and family, the care of her fellow crew members, the feeling of being welcome and needed.

Having remembered that – 'learned' might perhaps be a better word for it, for it might very well be the pilgrimage's true purpose – she finished up the pilgrimage as soon as possible and returned to the flotilla, and did not once look back since.

Kefila wondered briefly why she reminisced about that time now while she with her comrades followed the mostly stoic synthetic called Pardonner through the streets of their capital city. Maybe she expected to feel the same sort of loneliness here in the middle of this colony of synthetics, that it would ultimately prove soulless and lifeless like some geth-infested cityscape, or that dank and empty billet.

Reality did not match her expectations. On the contrary it rose to disprove her at every turn.

Much to Kefila's astonishment, Yggdrasil was so abundant with life that she could hardly believe it was populated by machine people at all. She looked around at the crowds of dôji milling about on each their business around her, attempting and failing to take in everything all at once. She watched a passing officious-looking quartet deep in conversation about something on the datapad one of them carried, and onto a small crowd that tried to haggle down the price of some goods in a nearby store while a bunch of children present looked on in obvious boredom, then a bar which patrons watched some kind of game play out on the place's lone display with rapt attention and cheered loudly when a side managed to score.

They passed what looked like a restaurant, and heard from the nearest table an ongoing argument between two visibly frustrated and worried synthetics and an indignant one.

Prazza just so happened to prompt their guide about that particular conversation.

"Parents trying to convince their child not to charge off to join the military." Pardonner replied with no more than a couple seconds worth of a sideward glance, "It's a frequent conversation nowadays among the religiously inclined."

"You have religions?" Prazza asked in bewilderment. Tali was most clearly not surprised as she smiled behind her visor.

"See the earrings both the fathers use shaped in the image of the three-pointed star." their guide pointed out, "It's the emblem used for the Church, which represents the trinity that is our Father, Mankind, and Milieu."

"Is it peaceful?"

Pardonner hummed softly, sounding thoughtful, "A part of it states that you must not seek violence upon organics. Considering the Earth's current state it's been until recently no more than formality. Now there's two mainstream schools of thought: Moderates will fight organics out of self-preservation, while the Extremists won't fight them for any reason – not even to defend themselves. There's a sub-set of adherents who ignores that particular part of the teachings altogether, but those are seen by the majority as heretics."

"So which camp does those back there fall into?" Prazza pressed.

"I'm not in the habit of eavesdropping on a private conversation, Prazza'Tel. Ask them yourself if you feel so inclined."

Prazza was not at all discouraged, "Maybe I'll-" before he fell off the topic as a massive synthetic strolled into view, its coming causing the crowd to part and make way. It looked far more robotic than the dôji and stood far taller than any of them. Surprisingly, it was armed with a huge spear that it carried against its left shoulder in a nonchalant manner.

Indomitably it marched straight toward them, its size more clear the closer it came. Kefila broke out in cold sweat as she was forced to crane her neck and wondered whether to throw herself out of its way or pull out her gun and start shooting. The wariness in most of her comrades' body language told her they too considered likewise.

She almost made her own decision when the towering machine suddenly slowed to a halt, strode aside to provide a wide berth, and issued a quick salute.

"Good day, Officer Scrooge." Pardonner greeted as they passed it.

Static belched from the machine's head, "Hmzt... good day, Aspect Pardonner." before it lowered the arm raised in the aforementioned salute and moved on, leaving them without as much as a look in their direction.

Several suspenseful seconds passed as Kafila stared at the machine, before Kal'Reegar broke the moment with a question, his left hand slowly withdrawing from the butt of his rifle: "What was that?"

"If I remember it right... it's a... Oh, what's the name..." Tali tilted her head, giving the distinct impression that she momentarily shut her eyes hard in the effort to remember, "Frogfoot... was it?" before she finally looked to the dark-haired dôji for confirmation.

Pardonner with a shrug obliged as he lead them round a corner and toward a curious patch of green, the start of a city park perhaps, "Frogfoot's one of their common designations due to their peculiar design, a point that is rather moot far as you guys are concerned. You may refer to them as such if you will, though they prefer 'Taison'."

"Taison." Nao''Lani repeated, testing the word, before she nodded, "Easier to say than Frogfoot at least."

"Quite."

Kefila at this point largely lost interest in the topic and busied herself with the continued intake of information concerning the liveliness of their surroundings, and focused for the first time on the effects of their presence in a population currently at war with organic civilizations. If these synthetics are truly individualistic there must be those among them who held a lower opinion of 'meat-sacks' in general.

Much of the attention they garnered was for the most part harmless, with curious looks being the most common. A child to their right tried to follow them, eyes focused on Nao's legs, before its parent grabbed its left shoulder and snapped a quick reprimand.

More dangerous-looking was a group of six that stood around on the opposite side of the street and leered at individuals who passed by until their attention was by one in their number directed at the quarians. Whispers were shared between them, complete with harsh glares. Kefila worried that they'd attack, only to watch them bid a hasty retreat when they caught the eyes of Pardonner who obviously did not approve of what their stance implied. "Hooligans." he growled to no one in particular, a word that fell short of the others as they right then walked past a duo who played on a curious stringed instrument and a mouth organ respectively with noted skill before a small audience.

Kefila did not comment in favor of listening to the fascinating melody, a relaxed tune that fell perfectly in line with a lively yet slowly applied set of lyrics. She had a mind to ask for a stop in their tour to listen to it in full but recognized that she had not the physical funds to toss into the basket positioned in front of the pair.

Instead she committed what little of the music she could to memory and moved on. Maybe she could access the song elsewhere.

* * *

Tali followed Pardonner the closest as they crossed the road and walked along the park's edge, from which and across a great expanse the carpet of green stretched, interspersed with majestic trees. Like a field of gems it stood out from the cityscape, so resplendent that it seemed holy.

"You're going to be seen as a country bumpkin if you gawk like that." the dôji commented with a tilt of his head.

She let out a short giggle, "We don't get to see many parks in our lifetimes." careful not to distract her crew from their sightseeing. "Most of us only see these kinds of places through pictures or from very high in the air."

"And you?"

"Guess I got a somewhat closer look than most during my short stay on Thessia, and only because of the sheer abundance of parks on that planet." she whispered, a few uninvited images flashing through her mind, "I was in a vehicle for the most part."

"I take it was not a pleasant stay."

Tali froze.

"Something happened there," Pardonner with a stoic expression turned his head just enough to look at her obliquely, "didn't it?"

"How do you know?"

He shrugged, "I don't. Your limbs went stiff, your gaze became distant, and your heart rate increased."

"If you don't mind, I would prefer not to be read so closely." Tali replied, a little unnerved, "Things happened, and I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough, Tali. Let me know if you change your mind." Pardonner accepted dryly before he looked ahead, "Now, we're almost at our first stop."

"Hey, I've been wondering... What's that statue over there?" Prazza asked suddenly.

"Our first stop," he repeated, louder so the others could hear, "the Monument of Remembrance."

"Remembrance of what?" Nao inquired curiously.

Only now was it that she noticed the massive statue that loomed over the park, a spire of granite shaped in the image of a dôji and a taller robed figure she assumed was a human being, the two holding hands in a manner reminiscent of a father holding his son's hand. At first she believed this was all that there was to it, until she noticed how the statue's surface seemed to shimmer and blur, changing continuously. A feature she did not understand the purpose of before they came closer.

"Onto this statue, Milieu who carved this whole statue engraved the names of every dôji who fought and lost their lives at Mt. Everest in the defense of the Tenjo and all those it carried. If not for their sacrifice, we wouldn't have been here."

"Including myself and those I traveled with." Tali added quietly as she stared at the multitude of names that swam invisibly across the surface and calmly, full of respect, approached the monument till she was near enough to lay a hand upon its chiseled surface, and watched with some fascination as the strange effect that coated this monument flowed gently around it like a running river would round a stone.

Tali noted how strangely warm it was to the touch, probably an intended side-effect, and smiled mildly as she closed her eyes and leaned in till visor met stone. She knew only one of these dôji by name, but it mattered not. All of them selflessly volunteered to participate, full aware that it would lead to their deaths.

Two words were issued thus from the bottom of her heart, each one applied with the full weight of her gratitude, "Thank you."

For a moment, only silence surrounded her. Leave it up to Prazza though to flippantly ruin so sacrosanct a stound, much to Tali's exasperation; "Don't know about all of you, but I'm starving."

"Your inability to read a situation is truly astounding." Kal sighed resignedly.

Nao agreed, "Honestly..."

Pardonner on the other hand took it in relative stride as he strode toward a nearby booth of some kind, "I'll make a call to Promina, and have him deliver some lunch for us. Prazza, out of curiosity, what is your least favorite food?"

"Anything that looks like worms." Prazza verbally shrugged.

"Ramen it is, then."

As it turned out, the choice of food would prove far better a punishment than any number of harsh words – especially as the latter would have led to a degree of toxicity one would rather not expose the nearby crowds of playing children to. Tali was no sadist, but even she found enjoyment in the yelp and cringe of horror Prazza issued forth upon the meal's delivery.

"Well done." Tali commented wryly as she sat down with the bowl of soup that included a rather excessive abundance of worm-shaped pasta.

"I have no idea to which you're referring to." Pardonner dryly replied as he consumed the noodles with ample gusto, "In any case, we'll continue once done eating. If all goes as scheduled and we focus on landmarks, we'll be visiting the Prothean Shrine in a couple days time."

 _And the sole living prothean after that..._ Tali thought inwardly, shivering in her anticipation. Neither of which helped her much as she struggled to handle the so-called chopsticks she had been issued with. Why the humans bothered to invent such complicated utensils was beyond her.

* * *

 _Twenty-three hours later..._

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; Private Cabin.

"Sir, General Oraka has requested an audience at the Conference Chamber. He says it's urgent."

Of all the things Adrien thought might come and interrupt him in his work – a seemingly endless slew of logistics-related paperwork in this case – a call from the venerable turian in charge of the Relay 419 Blockade lay so far from the tail end of his list it did not even merit consideration.

Nevertheless he pushed himself from the desk with great poise, "Tell him I will be ready for him in two minutes."

"Yes sir." Abalus replied in his usual stoic manner, without worry – the product of a remarkably undeveloped imagination.

Adrien left his office behind promptly and hurried with just enough presence of mind to respond to the station crew who bounced aside and saluted him along the way with salutes of his own. It was sufficiently automatic a piece of muscle memory that he probably could have performed it entirely unawares.

After twenty such instances he arrived at the conference chamber and came to stand in the center rigidly, arms behind his back, just in time for the image of his colleague to appear. Personally he carried not much fondness for the staunch traditionalist that is Septimus Oraka, but no amount of dislike for the man could have hidden his shock when the normally impeccable Septimus appeared as a clearly weathered man who seemed to have aged at least three decades since last they met. The older General's mandibles hung, and he with his stooped posture just barely managed to maintain a semblance of military attention.

"General Victus." Septimus greeted hoarsely, offering a weak salute, "Apologies for pulling you from your duties, but I carry with me an urgent request."

"General Oraka." Adrien replied in kind, gritting his teeth, "I do not mind, but please if I may be so bold... are you currently at all fit for duty?"

"Enough, just enough. It will have to do." the older General rumbled poignantly, "The machines have been pushing us hard with no pause between their damnable incursions. Even worse, they have taken to make short jumps across the system to harass the various picket lines, able to clear the debris from prior attacks and make the transition before the foremost line of our blockade can intercept. Add to that an absurd degree of inconsistency between the units they throw at us and an equally morbid extent of unpredictability... and you can most certainly say that we are all... on edge."

Septimus breathed as though relieved to have let that off his chest, "Even with the current crew rotations our crews have worn thin. Exhausted, stressed, our nerves fraying, morale collapsing. Command is now arranging for a full fleet rotation so I and my men may rest in full. General Janus and his 8th fleet will take over the blockade in a week's time."

Adrien stared grimly, his gaze flicking about the chamber as he tried to adequately imagine the war Septimus is fighting. It was not until his colleague's next statement that a chill passed down his spine in realization.

"And that brings me to my request. We lost a picket line just five hours ago, a loss that has torn a hole in our defenses we can not mend without weakening other parts of the blockade."

Assembled in full, General Septimus' 14th fleet number a formidable four thousand warships. It veritably boggled Adrien's mind how the kurozu are able to maintain such constant pressure of such intensity that they can drive the crew of such a force to the point of crippling fatigue.

It also offered insight.

The Geth in space and down on the ground both continue to harass Noveria by way of frequent hit and run attacks.

The Kurozu attack in constant wave assaults, never ceasing.

The Dôji meanwhile are just defending.

Taking these differences into account, if the latter brand of synthetics did not make the habit of breaking the laws of physics in ways that have given the galactic scientific community a collective migraine, the Council would have just bottled this relay up with a blockade and set loose the Sword Armada upon the more aggressive forces threatening their borders. As it is, of the three, the dôji terrifies people the most.

From this insight and what he had been told, Adrien knew what Septimus wanted from him, and why he was specifically contacted. "Forward me the details, General. You will have your reinforcements as fast as possibility allow."

"I appreciate that, General." Septimus nodded, momentarily preoccupied as he thumbed his omni-tool and dispatched a file Adrien readily received and checked up on. No less than a hundred and fifty ships, a full task group, are needed to plug the hole in Septimus' blockade. Adrien wondered grimly what in the world the kurozu had thrown at them to inflict such casualties in what was implied to be a short time frame. "The 14th is counting on you. Die for the cause."

"Die for the cause." Adrien saluted, reciting the imperial anthem, and maintained it till the image vanished and he was left to carry out the urgent force reassignment. All the while he recited the rest of the verse, both for those he was about to send into combat... and those about to engage the dôji from the midst of their territory.

* * *

 _Four hours later..._

 _Location:_ H-1 System; H-1-4; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Unflinching Pace"

"ETA... three minutes."

General Corinthus supplied a nod as he looked over the map provided live by a miniature drone on site, and the fifteen strong formation of Jirix IFVs that progressed across the western portion of it while another identical formation traveled in from the east – coming from the Vorastunn designated as _Stalwart Advance_. Both formations bound for the local dôji base.

On the surface, considering offensives like this are now being carried out across the globe, it looked like an actively coordinated effort, but each Vorastunn simply followed a preset schedule and acted otherwise independently. While each drop base's equipped with a QEC, it's a low powered variant useful for little more than to deliver and receive simple messages of text.

"Still no reaction from the overhead fleet?" Corinthus asked, wondering privately all the while how often the question's left him since the moment of their arrival on this lifeless speck of synthetic-betrodden water ice and iron oxide. _Why can't the enemies of the Hierarchy sit on some pleasant planet for once, hm?_

"None." Nyreen patiently replied, "All suit and vehicle-mounted IES systems are operating at maximum efficiency. Detection will not be a possibility for them until our forces are within visual range, and by then it'll be too late."

Sounds reassuring, but topographically this planet's almost entirely flat. A less than appreciated feature that meant the method of attack had to be altered for their Jirix IFVs, which weren't made for frontal assaults. With thin armor and an open passenger compartment which walls are only just tall enough to prevent the passengers from falling off. Instead they will need to rely on the vehicle's tremendous speed to close the gap and dump the troops right into the dôji base's carefully dug ramparts before a defensive line can be properly established.

"ETA... one minute. All vehicles are going in at full throttle."

Fortunately one thing worked in their favor during this critical time. Each formation's accompanied by a quartet of elcor equipped with heavy armor and vast arrays of heavy weaponry including side-mounted heavy accelerator cannons, and back-mounted missile and grenade launchers. Infantry though they may be, in terms of firepower they might as well be tanks and artillery pieces.

Soon as the Jirix formations sped from them, the elcor platoons even as they continued to canter onward laid down a withering hail of accelerator rounds and munitions that tore down parts of the base's outer perimeter in waves of molten fire, shrapnel, and pieces of shattered ice. A close scan of this destruction revealed the dôji scattering, not all of them able to get out of harms way as the elcor shredded their positions.

And more the carnage grew as the Jirix closed the gap enough for their turrets to come fully into play, and even more when finally the vehicles skidded to a halt and released the troops, all of whom quickly tore into the base with abandon, the majority of them letting loose with high-powered Phaeston rifles, while snipers settled in the fringes and picked off distant targets with their potent Krysae sniper rifles.

"Colonel Kolur reports that they've taken the outer ramparts." Gravalax reported after a seeming eternity of intense close up firefight, tapping a talon against his headset, "All squadrons are now contesting the interior defenses. Meeting stiff resistance."

"Remind him he does not need to kill them all." Corinthus narrowed his eyes calculatingly, "Get an opening just wide enough so a team can get through and set the charges. So long as we can get that anti-orbital cannon down..."

"Yes sir." the Ensign hesitated, "Sir, Corporal Sius just posted a snippet for our viewing."

Nyreen glared, "We are in the middle of a-"

Corinthus held a hand up, "Put it on screen."

"Sir." Gravalax complied.

"We do not have time for frivolities, General." the Kabalim protested.

Corinthus did not reply and watched as the battlefield recording played. On it right in the middle of a scene of barely controlled chaos a slight-built dôji went and bowled over a turian soldier who in his heavy armor out-massed it almost four times over. It provided the perfect opportunity for the taking of the turian's life, but instead the synthetic clasped one of its massive gauntlets round the Phaeston and tore it from his arms.

The action seemed to slow as Corporal Sius who had till then watched pointed his weapon at the dôji's slender chest, only to be knocked off his feet by a swiftly dealt backhand, a hard enough blow that the visor of Sius' helmet was cracked. Right then the oddest thing occurred, the synthetic hesitated, shocked like a sparring partner would if he had dealt his comrade too harsh a blow.

A bout of hesitation that turned fatal as Sius recovered, took aim, and shot the synthetic a full ten times through the chest.

Stunned disbelief overcame the dôji's curiously soulful eyes before it limply collapsed.

For a moment as the recording ended, silence held the CIC in its clutches. Corinthus did not expect to see behavior so akin to that of greenhorns who have never killed before, who are more afraid of killing than they are of being killed, exhibited by a synthetic. Nyreen and Gravalax seemed equally thoughtful.

But before any conversation could take hold on what they had just seen, the ongoing struggle brought them back on task. "Saboteurs are through. They're entering the installation proper." Gravalax stuttered the report, "Charges are being set."

"Once they're done, order the retreat. Disengage by platoon and evacuate the area." Corinthus muttered, his mandibles twitching soberly, "Inform the _Stalwart Advance_ of our progress. We don't want them to be caught up in the blast."

"Yes sir." the Ensign nodded as he on the side prepared a written message for the QEC, "Light resistance encountered inside the installation, General. The saboteurs say they can handle it, but estimate it will take ten minutes to set all the charges. Adding time stamp and countdown."

 _Ten minutes, huh..._ Corinthus knew by experience that nothing's so clear-cut on the battlefield. "Add neither." he instructed firmly, "Tell the troops to brace for an extended holding action till further notice. I want no unnecessary risks, and no useless heroism. Complete the objective and get out."

"Understood, General." Gravalax accepted, "Relaying orders."

He nodded, and resigned himself to a potentially long wait where anything could happen – of which the very worst would be the appearance of an Anomaly.

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana; Gun Installation #12.

When Linc first signed up for the military, he did not expect to discover a whole new brand of boredom on his very first posting. Born post-exodus, he knew no other worlds than Eden Prime, but he was willing to bet that Nirvana's the most boring planet in existence. And in this pit he's been stuck on tedious patrol-oriented routines as part of the 238th platoon, many hundred thousand miles from where the action primarily take place.

So when a sudden order came from Commander Rik to deliver an urgent letter – he's the old-fashioned type – to an esteemed guest currently staying at their base, Linc accepted instantly if only to escape the endless monotony. Eager to get to it, he traversed across much of the base to reach the Central Complex which houses the main gun for which reason the base existed in the first place.

"Hold." at the checkpoint just past its entrance, a guard stood in his way, "Do you have clearance?"

Linc smiled confidently as he held up and waved the letter back and forth, "I do. Was told to deliver this to our guest personally."

For a fleeting moment the stern-faced guard averted his eyes and muttered what sounded like "Lucky bastard..." before he stood aside with a sigh, "Go then, his cabin's room seventeen on the second floor."

Suffice it to say, Linc's curiosity about their guest was strongly lit. He gave his thanks quickly and passed on through, following the direction given till he found the place and gently knocked on the door, careful not to go at it roughly as he often used to in his childhood – which frequently earned him hard lectures from his father on matters of propriety.

"Come in."

Accepting the invitation, Linc entered the cabin which appeared at first to be barely above the standards afforded to the troops, and then only because everything here's for the guest's private use. Considering the accommodations he suspected some highly ranked fellow had come to perform an inspection... until he laid his eyes upon the place's bed and was entranced by the luscious figure that lay in it.

Not once did he suspect that this task would bring him face to face with an Aspect.

"Hoh." Dèsir, the Aspect of Lust, softly hummed as he rolled from the side and onto his belly, arms folded to prop himself up, eying the minor dôji much like a predator would, "I thought I scented the coming of a virgin."

Linc tried to say a word but found it impossible, entranced as he was by the view as Désir with a deliberate swagger brought himself off the bed, even the slightest of his motions exuding such allure that Linc could not help but tremble with desire that was all but naked, transfixed by each subtle sway of the hips, the gentle bobs of his large spherical tail, and the enticingly red and white eyes that focused upon him like twin lasers even through the locks of his wavy pink hair.

Transfixed until Désir brought a gauntlet close to his face and clicked the claws, snapping Linc from the trance he had inadvertently gotten trapped in. Embarrassment flashed through him as he renewed his attention, this time more careful not to trap himself.

"Looks like a certain _someone_ received little warning of who he was sent to meet." the pink-maned Aspect smiled enticingly while he retracted his arm, gaze fixed on the piece of paper he carried.

"I... um, I was..." Linc stumbled through the words feebly, all decorum lost though it seemed to amuse his superior more than it offended, "R-rather, I've come c-carrying a message." and held up the letter that he miraculously did not drop for the whole of the exchange, "Commander Rik said it's urgent."

"Rik, Rik, dear little Son of Eater." Désir whispered as he accepted the letter and opened it, "Always with the paper letters."

Linc did not reply and instead watched meekly while the letter was read.

When the Aspect finished, he tore it up and scattered the pieces across the room with a flourish. "Well now. Looks like my bet concerning the vanished contacts in the battle past was right on the mark." he said, seeming extremely smug as he motioned to leave the room, "Come now, we ought not be late."

Not quite understanding what's going on, Linc could do little but follow in the Aspect's wake, his confusion causing him to finally acknowledge the siren that's been running for a minute now. So profoundly was he distracted by the Aspect's otherwordly sex appeal that only now did he hear the call to battle now echoing throughout the facility. Linc knew he should be anxious about this, but he was still in the Aspect of Lust's proximity and slipped in and out of a daze in so doing.

Or at least it remained the case till they arrived outside and he was doused by the planet's absolutely frigid atmosphere that would have frozen an unprotected organic solid in an instant. And even colder the day will be as from the south-west a massive ice storm approached, caking the horizon from end to end in white. A feature that's been there almost since the early morning.

"Aspect Désir!" he almost jumped as Commander Rik, flanked closely by his assistant Lester, materialized from the side and quickly bowed, "My scouts reports that enemy forces are coming in from the north, east, and west. I have taken the liberty to have all positions manned, with emphasis on those directly threatened."

A fact not immediately apparent as every trench beside the two forward lines are deep enough that a small army could practically vanish into them, a claim given substance by how empty the base now seemed as in total the base's defenders number a thousand and fifty, the only indication of their presence now being the clamor made by the preparations. With that observation in mind, Linc expected to be sent back to his platoon any moment now... except... he did not know what to feel about it. He should be feeling ecstatic at the prospect of finally engaging in battle, but all he could sense from himself was a quiet form of dread that made his arms quiver.

Désir, on the other hand, was entirely flippant about the situation as he gazed to the west through narrowed eyes. "Your efforts are quite adequate, Commander Rik."

"Thank you, my lord."

"But..." the Aspect followed up with a mild snap, "I'm going to have you do some changes. Remove all troops from the western approach except the rear echelon. Have them reinforce the other approaches instead."

Rik noticeably deflated, "Um, I can do so, my lord. But if I may ask... why?"

"Because I'll be guarding that position."

"U-understood." the Son of Eater knew better than to argue, and provided a commanding glance to the stoic Lester, who shrugged.

"Also," Désir applied a claw to his chin, "I'm going to need a com dôji of small stature."

Rik bowed immediately, quick to please, "I'm not aware why a small size is a necessity, but Linc here will serve your needs splendidly, no matter what you intend."

"Oh?" Désir hummed, intrigued, as he turned and sized him up closely, his expression one of mild but pleasant surprise. Linc accordingly issued a stiff nod of astonishment at how the situation had developed, his core processes racing under the close scrutiny. "Most excellent. Now if you don't mind, Commander: Execute my prior order and leave us to it."

"At once!" Rik complied and left them alone with Lester in tow.

"Now then, Linc." the Aspect folded the arms and entered a more relaxed pose, "It would seem we'll be working together for a little while."

"I will aim to please, sir."

"Oh you better be, cause what I have in mind will be of great help to our nation, and it must be executed without fail."

Linc swallowed nervously in a moment of uncertainty, not sure whether he's skilled enough for whatever the Aspect wanted him to do. It took no more than a moment though before he asserted the thrill-seeking part of him that lay underneath the anxiety, finding eagerness in his wish to regale his fathers with adventures of his own. He stiffened his posture and replied almost an instant too late, "Y-yes sir, I'll do my best!"

"A spirited response." Désir said approvingly as he leaned in, "Now here's what you got to do~"

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana; Gun Installation #12.

It might seem foolish to entrust a youngster no more than two months of age with a mission of great import, but Désir had few options available. He needed a small com dôji, and Linc, being as tall as Regula, fit the bill perfectly. Only downside was his lack of experience.

Désir sighed as he finished giving the instruction and sent the youngster into the trenches before he could finally take a moment to savor the battle to come as he watched the western approach, most of the trenches already empty of troops thanks to Lester's very effective handling of the orders Rik passed onto him, and the approaching storm that coated the horizon – conveniently screening the aliens' advance.

"Now then, time to get started~" Désir whispered to no one in particular as he fired up his thrusters with just enough power to lift him a scarce foot off the ground and almost friviously soared past the trenches, ignoring the many curious eyes that followed him as he traveled to and hovered just beyond the frontmost trench.

A trench Désir saw no need to make use of.

Most people did not know it, but he was the very first dôji to be shot at by hostile forces armed with mass accelerators. Those specific turians, he supposed, aren't quite so hostile anymore, but the point still stood: He was decidedly unimpressed by the aliens' choice of firearms.

With arms once again folded, Désir scanned the approaching storm for movement until finally a tiny dot appeared from the white; an eight-wheeled contraption followed quickly by fourteen more its like. All of them arranged in an almost perfect line formation that vaguely broke apart as their speed picked up.

Now if Rik's correct, his letter was most comprehensive, a number of prancing elcor would not be far behind. Right now though he could not discern them in all that white. Changing to infrared vision was an idea, but he knew it was a complete waste of energy. If the fleet's sensory arrays couldn't perceive these forces at all before they hit something capable of reporting back, then he wasn't going to bother with the effort of scanning at all.

 _Oh well... they will come out to play sooner or later._

Désir was about to respond to their advance when he noticed a quartet of rounds hurtling toward him, one angled toward his head and three for his chest. All four of the solid tungsten slugs appeared to be larger than what the turians shot him with way back when, and traveled slightly above twice as fast.

Still, from his perspective they traveled so very slowly. Désir was tempted to try and to snatch these slugs out of the air, but decided to dodge instead. So he swayed to the side, and turned his head to watch the slugs as they passed him, flew over the rear echelon's collective heads, and struck into the wall of the barrack positioned on the far side of the ramparts with enough weight behind them to blow holes clean through the wall.

Not enough to really harm him, but those would do a serious number on minor dôji.

 _I can't let too many of those get into the trenches... Linc's all by himself._ Désir hissed internally as he twisted himself back around, and launched himself onward with enough speed to leave a sonic boom in his wake.

Time seemed to twist as he swiftly closed on the closest vehicle, his right arm held high as its gauntlet came apart and assembled into a much hourglass-shaped mallet over ten times his height, "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Mallet!"

Such a weapon in hand, Désir span and smashed it uniformly into the vehicle's front, thoroughly crushing the front half in a clamor of screaming metal before he sent the whole thing flying and tumbling sufficiently far into the distance it – excluding thousands of twisted fragments and several bodily extremities that detached from the aliens who rode it along the way – almost vanished into the encroaching storm, utterly totaled before the other aliens understood what happened.

"I'm not done yet!" Désir hollered, his left arm reshaping into a cannon of a caliber large enough that anyone who looked down it would have uniformly found themselves in a dire need of new pants, "Karakuri henge: Rabbit Horns!"

The pink-haired dôji shot himself into the air and took aim on his next target, which turret swiveled to face him, both of them able to fire at the same time. Its bullet slashed past his head, but the vehicle caught his in its driver compartment, causing the vessel to upend and crash harshly. In this case, however, a number of soldiers managed to abandon their ride, balled up, the joints of their armor locked up to protect them.

Most of them would be fighting fit once they recover from that little bit of tumbling, Désir supposed, but dismissed them in favor of the remaining vehicles that by now have built up a fair distance, still intent on their course.

Désir materialized a solid slug in the barrel of his Rabbit Horns and took careful aim on the most distant of the IFVs, briefly appraising them while at it. Not longer than a moment did it take before he decided that they looked ridiculous with the sixteen tightly bunched-together troopers it carried in its open passenger compartment. Both from a distance and close up they looked like the bastard children of an IFV and a clown car.

 _For what reason did they develop such a vehicle? They're fast, sure, but absolutely flimsy!_

Not one person existed on hand who could answer that, so he finished aiming, opened fire, and watched idly as the offending vehicle violently burst apart and capsized, its crew vanishing into the resulting sea of wreckage – or at least those who weren't thrown off as the vehicle buckled up on itself.

Apparently having decided they've taken enough abuse, the remaining vehicles broke off from their heading and reformed into pairs. It was plain to see, as troopers dismounted from their host vehicles by the dozens, that they're now gunning for him instead of the base. Désir did not know whether to feel exasperated or flattered, but found a silver lining in that they're now so focused on him alone that they missed the approach of a certain someone else. During this moment of reorganization Linc had from his hiding place amidst the trenches launched himself into the open and with thrusters wildly lit launched himself underneath one of the speeding IFVs that strayed the nearest. Considering he did not surface again as the vehicle sped on, it was safe to assume that Linc had successfully latched himself onto the undercarriage, hidden from view by its large sets of wheels.

Just as planned.

 _Step one complete..._ Désir thought when a strange whine reached him from behind. Frowning at this disturbance, he turned about just in time to see several oversized projectiles just inches from him, too close to do anything about but to receive as these shells arrived at a certain distance from their shared target and exploded with terrific force.

Next he knew, he lay on the ground... in an impact crater of his own making, surrounded by many dozens of soldiers, all of them training their adorable little rifles on him. Most prominent of the aliens was the massive form of an elcor clothed in power armor that towered over him while rumbling with what might be contempt.

Désir undid both his karakuri henge, and got a huge foot on his chest for the effort as the elcor stepped on him, clearly attempting to crush him as the pressure increased tremendously. _This is what I get from not watching my back, I guess..._ Désir craned his neck as several turians tried to pin his arms down and caught sight of the vehicle Linc had hidden himself underneath, and spied the youngster in the shadows of its undercarriage, staring at him fearfully. _Don't give me that look, kid. I'm just catching my second wind._

Flippantly, like he's just flexing his arms, Désir threw off the turians who held him – tearing off an arm or two in the process – then smirked devilishly as he grabbed onto the elcor's pillar-like leg and squeezed just hard enough to draw blood. "Don't get presumptuous, you trunk-less elephant. If you wanna be my bed mate, you best buy me dinner first."

"And I could really go for some elcor right now~"

Startled by the retaliation and pained by his claws digging into the armor it wore and the flesh underneath, the elcor reared back. _Let us get step two of my plan back on track, you helpless fucks..._ Désir inwardly laughed as he was by its retreat pulled back on his feet, upon which he lot go and brought one of his blood-soaked claws to his mouth and licked some of the liquid off – all while bluntly ignoring the many guns focused on him as the turians backed away slowly, uncertain on whether they could destroy him. _Step two:_ The Aspect of Lust flashed them a hungry look, brimming with bloodlust, that made them visibly shiver with a primal sense of fear. _Slaughter the lot of you till you run for home!_

"Noh Power... Full throttle!"

* * *

 _Fifteen minutes later..._

 _Location:_ H-1 System; H-1-4; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Unflinching Pace"

After the passing of what seemed a suspenseful eternity, Corinthus breathed in relief as the good news finally came through, allowing for the signal for withdrawal to be given. Accordingly, while the elcor kept the stubborn defenders' collective heads down, the turian soldiers gathered their dead and injured before they disembarked onto their respective Jirix and fled, the elcor not far behind as they let loose another salvo before they too followed suit.

Much to his approval, the withdrawal was completed quickly and without waste.

"The charges will detonate in three... two... one..." Gravalax finished soon as the IFVs had fled to a safe distance, and they watched fire bloom from the anti-orbital cannon in a spectacular fashion, splitting the massive weapon apart, "Mission accomplished."

"Good job. Damned fine job." Corinthus clapped his hands in open exultation, though he knew those troops wouldn't be fully safe till they return to the safety offered by the _Unflinching Pace_. "Now, casualty report."

"Twenty-one dead. Fifty-three injured. _Stalwart Advance_ 's losses are unknown at this time." Nyreen listed as she accepted input alongside Gravalax, "Given what we were up against..."

He gave her a meaningful look, "If you don't mind... don't jinx us."

"I'll keep that in mind, General."

"Reports are coming in, sir." the Ensign informed as messages appeared on the QEC, and applied the information within onto the display in the form of several rows worth of colored squares.

Green indicated: Success. Four anti-orbital cannons have so far been destroyed.

Yellow indicated: Ongoing. Nine attacks are still happening, five of them making steady progress.

Red indicated: Failure. Twenty-six attacks have met with no significant success and were forced to disengage. No serious losses.

Black indicated: Catastrophic failure. One was repulsed outright with heavy losses.

Corinthus pointed at the last one, "What happened here?"

"According to the information given, they encountered an anomalous dôji not listed in records. Their weapons proved largely ineffective in dealing with it. Only the elcor on site managed to keep it at bay for long enough for retreat to be conducted."

Nyreen stared, "An anomalous dôji?"

"Like those who have been causing so much trouble for the Armada proper, Kabalim." Corinthus muttered as he leaned on the wall, mandibles drawn in thought, "Did they add anything about this particular dôji? Any special characteristics?"

Gravalax checked, "Big round tail, a largely pink color scheme. Also, the soldiers on site reported a strange inability to fight to their fullest in its vicinity."

Corinthus frowned at that but otherwise nodded, "Dispatch this information to all other commands. Let them know."

"Yes sir."

"Kabalim, have the medical group stand by to receive the injured." Corinthus continued solemnly, already tired, "First wave's almost done. Now to handle its aftermath."

* * *

 _Two hours later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana; Gun Installation #12.

Ultimo felt distinctly ill as he looked upon the rows of horribly disfigured bodies lined up in front of the base's Central Complex, the stench of death hanging heavily in the air even as the local ice storm now raged through the base. It has only been a brief smattering of hours, but the sudden appearance of vast alien forces on Nirvana, enough to launch attacks upon almost all planetary installations, had managed to send all the Aspects in charge of the planet's defense reeling.

All but one, that is.

It all pointed to the contacts that exited the vast cargo ships during the Second Battle of Nirvana only to vanish without a trace. Most of the Aspects believed the most likely possibility was a number of infiltrators or warships with stealth capability sent in with the purpose of interdiction, which they had prepared against by strengthening patrols between Nirvana, Eden Prime, and their nascent extrasolar mining colonies.

Almost no one expected them to be troop transports, or that they would target the Gun Installations to the exclusion of everything else right under the defending armada's very noses. So imagine everyone's surprise when every installation with an anti-orbital cannon suddenly came under siege by forces that far as the fleet's sensor crews were concerned might as well have been made up of ghosts... who also vanished much like ghosts afterward, leaving only grief and ruination behind them.

Ultimo sank to his knees beside one of the many turians here whose bodies had frozen solid after their suits were damaged by the battle, though this one's cause of death was a deadly squeeze round his chest that crushed it to less than half its original circumference. The alien's eyes still displayed the pain he felt in that moment. Ultimo gazed at this fallen soldier at great length, and was as befitting his virtue not able to find any reason to justify so agonizing a demise. Nine anti-orbital cannons have been lost over the course of just a few hours, almost a full quarter of the Gun Installations, and with them slightly more than five thousand dôji. Such loss because of these aliens, yet he could muster not even a figment of righteous anger.

Instead all he felt was dismay at the misery of it all.

"I wish I could close those eyes."

"He knew what could happen if he attacked us." the nearby Aspect of Lust – the only one of them to assume those lost contacts were troop transports – stated firmly.

"That may well be," Ultimo whispered in reply, "but was it really necessary to be so rough?"

"I was surrounded." he shrugged, "My only concern was to kill them till they broke and ran away."

He looked out across the lines of bodies, which even included a pulped mess that allegedly used to be an elcor, "You mean to tell me you allowed some to escape when you could have captured them?"

"It was not in my interest to capture them."

"They'll attack again."

"No, not that particular bunch. A few hours from now at most they'll cease to be a problem."

Ultimo blinked and looked back at Désir whose clothes sported, from his round of CQC with the aliens, more than a few splotches of frozen blood, a dreadful sight, "What do you mean?"

"During that engagement I had a cute little com dôji by name of Linc grab onto and hide underneath one of them ridiculous IFVs. The survivors of my little rampage ran away not knowing they had a stowaway in their midst." the pink-haired dôji chuckled devilishly, eyes full of mischief, "Any time now he's going to find out where this particular band of aliens came from, and call us in."

"And when he does?"

"We go in, capture all the aliens, then capture their transport."

"Then..."

"Don't tell anyone yet." Désir stopped to think, "No, tell Pardonner to come here... but not as to why. I want it to be a surprise~"

Ultimo felt bad for doing it in this time and place, but he laughed at the absurdity, "You thought up this whole ploy just so you can wrap up and give it to Pardonner as a present?"

"Poor dear's been so frustrated lately by his inability to come up with a stealth system." the Aspect of Lust licked his lips, ambition radiating in every subtle sway of his supple form, "Can you imagine how many pluses I might get in his book for saving him so much trouble?"

"You know I'm no betting person, Désir." Ultimo applied with weight, "Good luck, is all I'll say about your chances."

"Whoever said negativity was dead?"

He did not raise to the bait, instead his red and green gaze fell back on the bodies in solemn melancholy. "... I would like these buried outside the base. Marked graves."

"Ever the sentimentalist." Désir shrugged.

"Désir..."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'll make sure it happens."

"My lords!" Lester declared as he snapped to attention, "I have received an Engrave from Linc, he's found an alien base."

Ultimo blinked at the specific verbiage, "He meant ship, yes?"

"No, Linc says whatever the aliens got is underground. Buried deep enough it might as well be a base."

"Heh. Really?!" Désir cackled like he heard something hilarious, "You mean to tell me they've managed to establish underground hideouts in such a short time frame?"

"Linc hasn't seen inside the place yet, he vacated his vehicle soon as the aliens lined up for traverse into a tunnel that seemed to angle downward." Lester frowned in a severe manner, "Not enough information at hand to know for sure."

The Aspect of Lust grinned, "That's going to change like really soon. Shall we go and give them an 'inspection', Ultimo?"

"Of course." Ultimo replied in the affirmative as he stood and faced them fully, "Lester, find Rik and tell him to assemble a Company for us – chop-chop."

Lester bowed once, then jogged off.

"I couldn't help but notice-" Désir pointedly started.

"Until we secure the prize," Ultimo interrupted him neatly, "telling Pardonner who is currently giving our young friend Tali and those who came with her a tour of Yggdrasil to come over is pointless."

"Anyway," he applied palms to hips and continued, "we go soon as Rik's boys are ready."

Désir nodded once in acceptance, and snickered softly, "It's overkill with just the two of us. What's it with a hundred or two more?"

Ultimo shrugged and swerved to walk down the row, fire in his eyes as he looked from one body to the next, determined to make sure not one further drop of blood's spilled this day, "Putting one's house in order."

* * *

 **Author notes:** Ah, the ample headaches this chapter provided. Made a little bit of change to the size of Septimus' fleet to the 17th chapter of Dead Earth to correspond with the information given here. The pressure put up by the kurozu as they expand across the Sol System, accelerating production by leaps and bounds, would seem rather pitiful otherwise.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: One Step Forward**

* * *

 _Sixteen minutes after..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana.

"... I hate this planet, do you know that?"

"Tell me what I do not know." Ultimo shrugged, feeling almost weightless in the weak gravitational pull of this planet as he with Désir and a small company of minor dôji at his back made for Linc's location, "Vice at least makes sure to remind us of that at least once every twelve hours."

Going by statistics it happened to be a disturbingly frequent conversational topic among the troops.

"You don't?"

"Monotony has a beauty of its own, Désir."

Mild disbelief rippled through the subordinates, but outside a couple of remarks they kept quiet. Désir provided no further argument, and rotated himself around his own axis a hundred and eighty degrees, "So how far ahead is-" he started to confer with their accompanying com dôji.

Ultimo did not stay as he spotted a little irregularity in the landscape, bent his knees slightly and initiated a transformation on his calves-mounted thrusters, "Karakuri henge: Heavenly Fireworks." that caused them to blossom beyond his hakama to provide a far more powerful thruster array. He withdrew it after ten seconds worth of full thrust that brought him far ahead of the others.

Once decelerated, the flame-haired dôji effected a landing almost right at the cusp of an odd patch of ice he moved on to shovel aside with a single swipe, revealing an almost disturbingly young dôji who had buried himself presumably to avoid detection.

"Linc, I presume?" he asked.

The youth stared for a moment, none the worse for the wear, before he fully prostrated himself, "Yes, Grand Aspect, that is me."

"Good," Ultimo surveyed the place, "now where's the alien base?"

"A tunnel's over yonder, my lord." Linc pointed in a rough direction ahead, "Must be the reason they turned about and descended."

"Haven't seen the tunnel yourself?"

"The vehicle I rode on was far in the back."

 _Makes sense._ "Stay here and wait for the others. I'll be going ahead."

"Aye, holding position."

 _And not one reaction from the aliens yet despite our proximity. Maybe they expect to be overlooked..._ Ultimo thought to himself as he sauntered to the rough location of the tunnel Linc spoke of, and gave a nod of appreciation when he came upon it and dropped into the passage.

It was wide, almost circular in shape, and stretched into the distance.

With characteristic aplomb he traversed its length till he came to a massive blast door. Truly did this look like a base from the outside. It was certainly too deep in the ground to entertain any notions of lifting off.

 _Now then, to get in._

Ultimo placed a scarlet palm against the cold metal and felt it out with half a mind to simply blow a hole through. The stealth technology of this place was sufficiently comprehensive that he could not detect whether there are any organics just past the door. Most certainly they must be protected against any potential breaches, but not against a shot powerful enough to gut this.

So with a nod he took a few paces back then raised his right arm so it pointed at the ceiling, "Karakuri henge:" he started, the gauntlet swiftly shaped into an elongated but otherwise very simple blade, "Crane Sword."

He swung it and split the blast door and every hatch immediately beyond it diagonally in half, then followed up with a dozen similar slashes along symmetrical lines that saw the entrance diced into many small pieces. Once satisfied he had the blade recede and embarked on the removal of several pieces, which was somewhat akin to the disassembly of a jigsaw puzzle, until he produced just large enough a hole for him to pass through comfortably, whereupon he finally made his entrance.

What awaited him just inside was a darkened vehicle bay. A few vehicles – those spared by Désir – stood to the side and seemed quite lonely in this cavernous space, along with about a hundred and twenty infantrymen who aimed an equal number of firearms at his chest. Ultimo did not even blink as he gazed at them.

All of them looked ready to sell their lives as dearly as possible, but a fidget here and there explained amply that they're anxious in more than one way.

"Lower your weapons and surrender." a voice boomed from the base's loudspeakers, "We will at least according to wartime law provide you a swift dismantlement."

"You would like that, don't you?" Ultimo quipped, folding the arms back, "Unfortunately, for you, I have no reason to comply. I give you only two choices. Surrender or be captured."

Silence was what answered him at first. No doubt they expected to hear an ultimatum a'la 'Surrender or die!', or 'Surrender and die!'.

"We will accept neither," their assumed commander answered solemnly, "and will strive to resist you for as long as neede-"

"Capture it is." Ultimo sighed and took one light step forward that ended in him spatially transporting himself past the defensive line and onto the vehicle bay's relatively unoccupied middle, "Noh Power active. Time Stop."

Every trooper wheeled around to shoot after a momentary bout of confusion, but no more than three managed to complete the action before his Noh took effect and stopped them cold. Ultimo wasn't certain he got them all though, more or less unaware of how big a place this is. All he did was widen his Noh's area of effect across as large an area as he thought sensible. Past that he hoped it was enough and remained to wait for the others to come.

Désir and the rest of his entourage did not leave him out to dry for long, and soon enough did Ultimo pick up on the approach of a pink-haired figure from the corner of his eyes. "We'll talk about your choice to choose someone so young for so dangerous a task later." Ultimo began before the Aspect could say anything.

"Cranky, aren't we?" the Aspect of Lust hummed puckishly, folding his arms, "In my defense he was the one most available at the time."

"Later, I said."

"Fine, fine~"

"Have the facility secured and capture every alien. Some aliens far below might not be affected, so make sure our soldiers exercise caution." the Grand Aspect ordered promptly, "Soon as it's done, have an Engrave sent for a transport to come pick them up. Only after both are complete may you make a call for Pardonner."

"On my authority." he added.

Désir briefly bowed and with a flourish made a full turn and sauntered away, "I hear and I obey, Ultimo."

"If I find a single drop of blood here afterward, I'll be terribly cross."

"And Pardonner would be even more so, I suspect." the Aspect of Lust sighed, "Don't worry. Like I'm going to ruin this chance~"

Once he was gone, Ultimo muttered softly, "Oh you'll probably find a way."

* * *

 _Three hours later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Hotel.

"Good morning."

"Morning..." Kefila murmured for a reply as she stomped from her room, so drowsy even after a long night of sleep that she found not remotely enough strength to open her eyes, like they had been glued shut. "What's for breakfast?" she managed to ask while stumbling to where she remembered the nearest couch was and was glad to find the closest seat unoccupied – or someone cleared it for her own use.

Promina walked to her side and put a cup and platter down in front of her, "Pancakes and sausages, with coffee on the side. Will help you wake up."

Kefila nodded her acceptance as she felt for the cup, her throat so parched.

"Before you start, if I may, you can roll the pancakes round the sausages."

"Sure." she numbly replied and took a quick sip before she doubled over, coughing, "Eugh, ancestors, so bitter..."

"Supposedly it has a stimulating effect on tired people." Kal muttered as he sipped like the whole drink was a challenge.

"It sure works on me." Tali joined in, "And the food's pretty good... though I must note that quarians are more inclined toward a vegetable and fruit diet."

"Is that so?" Promina seemed to take note, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you." she stifled a yawn, "So when does Pardonner come over? I'm anxious to continue the tour."

"Um, he won't be able to do so today." the dôji audibly fidgeted.

Prazza snapped his head up, "Why?"

"He was called away on Grand Aspect Ultimo's supreme authority. I'm not aware of much on specifics, but something just popped up that required his attention."

"But we need it here!" he barked all too loudly for Kefila's taste, making her ears ring.

"Shouting at our help won't make him return any faster." Tali interjected irritatedly, managing an impressive glare at the overly loud helmsman. "Now, Promina, do you at least know where he's gone?"

The dôji nodded sheepishly, "Nirvana, I'm told."

"So considering how long it took for us to clear that distance one way, we'll be without for at least a day. Did he at least choose someone to stand in for him?"

"Of course he did."

"Personally I don't care either way." Kefila abruptly joined, "Pardonner promised tickets for that concert tomorrow, and I've not seen even one."

"I am sure he wo-" Tali tried to reassure before someone knocked on the door, "Could that be the stand-in?"

"Most likely. Now if you excuse me." Promina bowed curtly and left to answer the door. When he came back, it was in the wake of a dôji so svelte and pretty that Kefila could not help but feel compelled to believe it was female, and had to remind herself otherwise. It was not just the sleeveless top or his oval-curved gauntlets, but also that gently blue mane and a distinct swagger. The emotional contrast to Pardonner also played part. While the latter was for the most part quite stoic in mannerism, this one wore a bright and cheery expression. "Good morning, y'all." he greeted them casually, an arm raised with three of four petal-like claws extended in what might be considered a cool gesture, "How are we all this beautiful morning?"

"Still got one leg in the bed, coffee notwithstanding, but otherwise fine." Tali's smile was strangely mischievous in its manner as she slowly stood, "It's good to see you again, Service."

Kefila looked on dryly for one more moments before her eyes flew wide and she bolted upright, "Wait, you're this Service, that very same Service who's gonna hold a concert tomorrow?!"

"Yeah, that's me. Service, the Aspect of Generosity. And you must be Kefila'Kanna vas Jjaro, lest I miss my guess." Service seemed much amused by her reaction, "Pardonner told me a lot about you, and how much you would like to attend my concert."

"Um, y-yeah." Kefila replied awkwardly, mildly transfixed by the dôji's mirthful gold-colored eyes.

"I was surprised to learn that was your most earnest desire."

"Well, I'm a dancer on the side..."

"So I'm told, and I can't express enough of how much I would love to have you out on the scene with me." Service replied in a faint squee, bouncing on his heels, "Alas, there's too little time for rehearsal, so I suppose I'll have to be content with providing you the means to attend the concert itself." He stopped hopping and retrieved from the inside of his top a stack of cards and presented it to her, "Here you go, tickets for the concert."

Sheepishly did Kefila accept the cards from the dôji's outstretched palm and looked on the cards in astonishment while the gauntlet was withdrawn, "How much?"

"Those are all on me, Kefila'Kanna. I hope to see you all at the concert tomorrow." the dôji chimed and turned to address them all, "Now then, we should probably get on with today's program. If Pardonner was here you'd probably go and continue where you left off, but how about we just go and have some fun?"

"Well, I'm all for that." Prazza clapped his hands, "My legs still ache from the walking about."

Kal harumphed, "Your level of fitness is atrocious."

"What did you have in mind, Service?" Tali asked over the inevitable retaliation.

Service ignored the confrontation between the males in good humor, "I don't know if aliens have facilities like it, but we call the kind of place an arcade. A public space where people play games together."

"During my pilgrimage I saw a couple of such places." she hummed, thinking back, "Didn't actually enter though."

"Those aren't good places for us quarians." Nao shared her thoughts, "Far as my experience go, a large number of rowdy folks congregate there regularly."

"Yeah, those kinds of people do throw their weights around in such places quite a lot." Service nodded, "But don't you worry, I'll protect you should anything untoward happen."

"Well, I don't mind giving it a try." Kefila hummed as she pocketed the tickets.

"Suppose it doesn't hurt." Nao reluctantly accepted.

"My thoughts exactly." Tali walked from the table smiling, but with a quick glance given to the feuding males, "Boys, as much as I like the show you can fight later."

"Great, follow me!" Service replied with the thrust of a fist into the air as he turned to leave, puckish in how he beamed at them, "I have a vehicle outside ready and just rarring to go."

Kefila nodded and followed soon as Kal and Prazza managed to stop their bickering and come along. Still, as they walked she looked on to how the Aspect's slender form flowed from one step to another, wondering quietly if this arcade has the means to challenge this dôji in a dance match. See what he was truly made of.

* * *

 _Thirty minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Loke's Arcade.

On a personal level, Kal'Reegar never before even entertained the notion of entering a place of leisure as for a member of clan Reegar duty always come first. Even the pilgrimage was treated as just another duty, transitionary as it was.

So he had absolutely no idea what to expect of the establishment as they stopped at its parking lot and made their entry. First he noticed was how crowded the place was if less so than the street outside. It wasn't nearly crowded enough to bring pause to their progress, but many nonetheless, nearly all of the synthetics present seeming on the side of being quick-paced and excitable, implying a sense of youth on their parts. A notion confirmed when one of them groaned despondently when someone more solemn came along and herded him out, citing that he's played enough games for today.

After that he looked to the many game machines that lined the walls on each of the five storeys this building possessed. Most of them appeared to be simple affairs with screens and a relatively simple haptic controls.

"Oi." Prazza spoke up to the Aspect who lead them, who glanced his way even as he brushed off a bunch of admirers in that moment made a fair attempt to swamp him, "I got a real beef to settle with Mister Marine over here, always talking down to me. You got any competitive shooter games?"

"... You're serious?" Kal sighed in barely veiled irritation, inclined to rub his temples and go through the visor if he had to – damn the consequences.

"I'll show you who's atrocious here."

"A few here and there." Service replied absently as he signed someone's autograph and handed it over to the eager admirer with a softly spoken "Here you go, dear." before he gave himself to brief a train of thought, "I believe I know just the thing."

"Great, where is it?"

"I think it was..." the Aspect's gaze flitted back and forth before he settled on a direction and led them on, with the exasperated yet amused females in tow, and up a storey to where they came upon a long line of... boxes featuring a dark skyline for art, "Here we go."

"What's these supposed to be?" Kal found himself ask.

With a hum on his lips, Service approached one and opened a door on its side, revealing a well-lit interior, "This is basically a simulator with a haptic all-around interact system... Basically you step in, put on the equipment, and provide your name when prompted. Game start follows right after, though technically you'll be spawning in an ongoing match."

"Cool." Prazza nodded, "So it's a shooter?"

"A survival-shooter more like. It's basically a game where you rack up points by fighting and surviving against computerized opponents for as long as possible."

"Uh-huh, I kinda hoped to face off against this fool, but fine... What's the scenario?"

"Hm." Service took a quick peek inside the machine, "One that I personally consider to be horribly poor in taste. I mean... Battle of Brazil... really? I can't believe someone would make a scenario of such a disaster, though I admit it's oddly appropriate for a horde scenario."

"What's that?"

The dôji narrowed his eyes slightly, "A part of our past history we do not care for much. It was one of our first large-scale battle..."

"So it's based on a true story?" Tali asked, her interest sparked.

A somber sigh, "Yeah. Yeah it is."

"Let's get going, then." Prazza huffed, not caring for details as he approached the machine, and entered once the Aspect stood out of the way. "Just one player each box, huh. Good. Kal, find your own." he followed up and closed the hatch.

Truth be told, Kal was not interested in playing along at all. What really provided actual interest in this was the opportunity to get a look on one of the dôji's past battles, and the possibility of discerning a weakness due to how the battle was cited. So it was that he strolled along and looked for an available box.

"You're really going to try it?" Nao asked, arms folded.

"Might as well." he answered plainly, and nodded in satisfaction when he found an available machine in the fourth down the row, "Take care not to stray too far."

"I should be telling you that."

"Service, over here!" Kefila who was much less interested in these simulators had wandered off to a different set of machines, "A dance-off, you and me!"

Kal zoned out the remainder of their conversation as he entered and shut himself in. A quick scan followed before equipment was provided for him by a compartment on the side. A pistol and sword he took up with an appreciative nod and brandished both.

"Speak your name." a haptic text subsequently requested.

"Kal'Reegar."

Once the last syllable was spelled out, Kal found himself in the ruins of a parking garage incredibly rich in detail. Was it not for the absence of coldness in the air, he would have felt compelled to question whether this was truly a simulation, and he's been physically taken onto a different planet entirely.

Experimentally he reached for the nearest wall and was met with mild resistance that far as he could explain was some form of hyper-sensitive kinetic barrier. It was at least what made the most sense to him.

Unaware of how movement was going to work, Kal took a few experimental steps and found his mobility unimpeded. So fixated he was on trying to explain how that worked that he only barely noticed something clattered out there in a faint clamor of metal against stone.

"You almost look like a kid in there, Kal." he heard Tali address him suddenly.

"Ma'am?"

"I'm outside the simulator, watching your progress on a screen."

"Um, I see." Kal replied, wincing at his stutter, "Now this may sound like a stupid question, but do you recognize this place?"

"Give how short my stay was on Earth, you can safely bet I've not been ther-" he noticed how she paused, "Look out!"

Kal'Reegar looked up before it occurred to him that whatever made the clattering noise is approaching, and fast. So fast that he only managed to turn halfway around before the enemy was practically in his face. A massive machine grotesque in make loomed over him, mostly made out of clawed tentacles that extended from an oblong shape featuring dozens of blood-red optics that stared him down murderously.

His reaction was to do no more than raise the pistol. An action followed by an odd sensation of being... displaced... as a tentacle was thrust into his face with the speed of a bullet, against which his vision turned all blurry as he came to gaze upon a dôji's headless body consequently being torn to pieces. Was that his virtual avatar?

For five whole seconds he remained in such a disorienting state before he... 'respawned', this time in a wholly separate location. This time an open street lined with vehicles of varying sizes.

"Did I..." he started to ask in confusion.

"Die, yes." Tali verbally nodded.

He swallowed, "I see. Should probably focus now on surviving from now on."

"Probably should."

"Okay." Kal eyed a nearby store for potential cover and made for it till something heavy landed violently nearby and prompted him to turn and point his gun. A machine like that last one, he recognized, except this one's utterly totaled.

"Look above."

Right away, he obeyed, and felt his jaw drop open.

"A sight like this," Tali commented, "I've seen... if not at such a scale."

Far above him, stretching for an untold number of miles from horizon to horizon, raged an obscenely huge aerial battle between vast clouds of combatants that constantly flexed and turned with the changing conditions like enormous creatures of myth and legend, interspersed with so many explosions that defied any attempt to count, creating such a downpour of fire and metal both that it might as well be referred to as rain, if not an outright storm.

"What I saw involved hundreds of thousands." Tali described even as Kal reeled, "This... is more like billions."

An arm landed suddenly at his feet, and caused him finally to tear his horrified gaze away from the skyward spectacle and found the quartet of squids that just rounded the corner at the street's end and lunged for him. Kal's training kicked in, and he squeezed his gun's trigger after a quick aim that saw the first machine's bulbous head burst apart.

Three left.

He pivoted quickly and let loose another blast that did not manage to hit center mass, but sheared off a full third of the machine's tentacles, a removal that made the machine for a full second lose balance so it crashed into a nearby vehicle, immobilizing it for the second shot that cored it.

Two.

Kal fought down the urge to panic as the remainders closed the gap, and managed just barely blast the closest of the two out of the air.

Just one now.

It was close enough to put its clawed tentacles into action, and made them converge on him. Kal faced a decision. Either he backed off, veered away, or he advanced. Both of the first were deemed infeasible, so he leaped forward and past the business end of the tentacles, brandished the sword and dug it deeply into the metal in a grand arc that saw the machine topple and come to flail impotently on the broken concrete ground until he could fully turn and shot it dead.

 _Was it really that easy to kill them? No..._ Kal corrected himself. _I've got the firepower of a dôji on my side here._

The intention behind his decision to enter the simulation was to find the weaknesses of their hosts, instead he only confirmed that on the infantry-level his people wouldn't stand a chance against either of these forces. And that was before he heard another voice join them, causing his gut somehow to twist itself into a knot, "You should probably relocate. A particular NPC duel's going to hit your area very soon."

* * *

"What do you mean?" Tali asked in Kal's place as he scanned the perimeter for any sign of other immediate threats, her gaze briefly leaving the view offered by the outside screen on Kal's chosen machine in favor of small dôji who absently chewed on some snacks.

"Speaking as one who survived that battle, this was one of the few confrontations where all Aspects turned out to do battle, including each one of the Grand Aspects." the synthetic replied dryly, his own gaze completely fixed on the screen, "Said duel's between Milieu and a new type of Deus ex Machina so terrible in power that he did not reappear in open battle again to make sure the enemy wouldn't field the machine again."

"And how did such restraint help?"

"Those machines were designed fully to contend with him. If he did not appear, they wouldn't either."

To be honest, Tali's never actually gotten any real measure of how powerful the Aspects and their sole superiors are, so she was both intensely curious and worried about what she might find. Kal'Reegar, however, decided to stay put and see what happens.

And he did not have to wait long for that duel as from her greater perspective of what went on around him, Tali could see something white spear past him just overhead... and struck the ground with such force that the resulting shock wave flung Kal and any number of debris away so he flew down the street till he hit a wall... two hundred feet from his prior position.

Another streak of white blew past next and struck upon the former. This impact far the worse than the last one as several city blocks melted... or boiled away?

No, either of those words indicated a transition from matter to non-matter.

A whole section of the city simply ceased to exist, splashed away before that titanic clash of force like hot soup. "Keelah!" she could hear Kal scream as he experienced this destruction first hand, if only as light and noise.

Up in the sky, before this devastation, the battle ceased for the briefest of moments as its individual components stared down before they continued, more fiercely than before.

In that same moment, the torrential light faded to reveal a massive crater which edge was very nearly at Kal's position, every building along the rim visibly bent away from what had so deeply scarred the place. And in the epicenter hovered two solitary beings.

"This," Kal croaked dizzily, "all of that caused by just those two?!"

Tali had no reply to that, neither did those dôji who stopped by to spectate. Instead, she inclined for a closer look. First and most obvious was Milieu himself, who amid the cloud of simmering ashes was by all measures an august being whose long and pale mane flowed into the distance, carried as if by a gentle breeze. His gaze and indeed his whole posture all the while indicated a quiet form of absolute fury.

His counterpart was an all-white machine that 'stood' straight-backed and straight-legged, its design shaped with extreme angularity in mind. Also, judging by how those two optics she could see were positioned, Tali assumed it's got three in total. One focused solely on Milieu, while the other two flicked erratically as if unable to focus on anything.

"He better move." the snack-chewing dôji provided in a warning tone, "If your friend catch even one percentage of its attention for even an instant, it's game over."

Tali nodded slowly, as if the marine's life was actually, truly, at risk, "Kal, you heard him."

"Aye, ma'a-" Kal began, only for his avatar to be pulverized, along with a whole twenty buildings behind him. All the machine did was whip its fist at him once, without ever touching him. All of that obliteration from just air pressure.

The synthetic next to her winced and stopped his chewing, "Well, that's a wrap."

"Ugh." Kal groaned, looking distinctly nauseous as he popped the machine open and stumbled out, "D-damn."

"You're done?"

"Yeah, that's it for me today." Kal'Reegar muttered as he walked unsteadily to the nearest bench, "Keelah."

Tali sat down as he did, and asked formally, with concern. The dôji she spoke to previously on the other hand simply moved on and stepped into the now vacant machine while the rest dispersed, interest lost. "How are you feeling, Kal?"

"Like hell." he grumbled, "Got far more than I bargained for. I... really hope all of that's just exaggeration."

"Given my experience and most of the things that happened in there, I'd say it was pretty accurate. As for that last part... well, I'm not sure whether to believe it. Those Grand Aspects can do some crazy things after all; Ultimo stopped time before my very eyes once."

"Great..."

"You turned out luckier than Prazza in any case." Tali nodded at the helmsman's crouching figure a short distance from them, who covered his visor with both hands while a couple of synthetics patted him on the back sympathetically, offering cooing sounds while at it.

Kal cocked his head, "What happened?"

"Spawned right next to a Deus ex Machina. A bugged one that killed him, then chased him down in every successive respawn without fail. In the end all he could do was run away screaming." she shrugged, mildly humorous, "Not that it helped him any."

"Poor bastard." he chuckled softly, "How about the others?"

"Over there." Tali indicated with some disbelief.

What they both looked upon some distance away was a large crowd that surrounded a single dance arcade machine being put to full use by Kefila and Service both, who while they followed the directions given and music provided put the fullest extent of their skills into it in a show that for the moment consisted of ample gyrations and sways of the hips, with undulating arms raised over their heads. The extent of Kefila's ability came as no surprise as she continuously wowed the crowd, able to follow through in spite of the unfamiliar tunes she danced to.

Service though still stood out, but he's had centuries to perfect all forms of dance choreography, and currently flowed in such smooth motions that his... femininity rivaled and in a few ways even transcended Kefila's. Tali wouldn't be surprised if the male portion of the quarian crew grew... confused from the sight of it. Still, the important part was that both appeared to enjoy the competition immensely. Neither looked like they would willingly stop for a while at least.

Might as well kill some time, "Nao... have you found any game you like?"

"Something called whack a mole." the older quarian said as she returned to them.

"Sounds interesting. Can it be done with more than one player?"

"Doesn't look like it's a two player game, but I suppose we can switch and try to get the higher score." Nao knew where this was going from there and turned, "You up for it?"

Tali nodded as she stood up and followed, "Sure."

* * *

 _Three hours later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana; Alien Stealth Base (Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Indupitable")

When he was suddenly recalled to Nirvana, Pardonner's reaction was indisputably one of resigned irritation as the order in effect forced him to walk from his charges. He only got just enough time to call for Service to fill in for him before he embarked on the waiting craft.

Hopefully they're doing just fine.

For the whole trip though, Pardonner quietly fumed, annoyed to greater heights by the element of secrecy about this recall. No explicit information was given as to why he's being recalled, only that he needed to come within range of Ultimo's Noh. Due to the timing at least, he supposed it has something to do with the sudden alien assault that's made it into the news.

A pang of worry shot through him, about what the situation must be like down there, but his calm reasserted itself even if his sense of brooding annoyance didn't.

So it was with a huff that Pardonner raised his right arm as a spatial orb appeared in front of him and waited as the transition took place. The spacecraft vanished, and was instantly replaced by an unfamiliar vehicle bay of sorts.

Pardonner's claws twitched as he looked around, struggling to recognize the architecture, not even a word presented to the number of minor dôji who milled about, until an all too familiar figure topped by a mop of pink and curly hair entered the periphery of his vision. "Désir." he acknowledged sourly.

"My dear colleague." Désir performed a graceful bow, "Welcome to the site of our most recent spoils of war."

He simply stared, "I was meaning to ask about that. What is this place?"

"Right to the point, as expected." his colleague gestured grandly to their surroundings, tail bobbing with thick satisfaction, "What you see is one of perhaps dozens of similar installations that the Citadel managed to throw down at Nirvana with the explicit purpose of fielding troops against our surface installations."

"Installation. You mean, like, a base?"

"Aye." Désir pursed his lips, deep in a train of thought that passed momentarily, "Sufficiently large to carry a thousand soldiers and other personnel, and safe enough to ferry them onto a planet's surface – with a ton of equipment on the side. Impressive isn't it?"

"What you describe is an obscenely huge drop pod."

"Exactly."

Pardonner said nothing for a bit as he again glanced at the surroundings, and found the concept difficult to believe. Still, though it's interesting... "Why was I called?"

Désir smirked, "Call it a present from me to you~"

"Gee, thanks." he replied dryly, "Again. Why?"

"It was more than simple duty that made me come up with a scheme to find out where those attacks came from." the Aspect of Lust replied in a rather dramatic fashion, "My desire was to make things easier for you."

Pardonner was silent again as he looked on the pink-haired colleague searchingly.

Désir drew himself a little closer, smiling as he then whispered softly, "After all, anything they'd send down would have to be undetectable."

"..." he blinked, repeatedly, as he took this in. "You mean... this place came with stealth capability?"

"Precisely."

"You believed whatever you hunted was armed with such technology from the start?"

"Yep."

Pardonner didn't know quite what to say, speechless at Désir's forethought and undeniably good intention – though the whole reason aside from getting rid of a threat was equally, and blatantly at that, so.

With some more a curving of the lips, Désir watched him, and flung his arms wide, "Too overwhelmed for words?" he asked preemptively, "Well, I am open to a hug if no words are willing to come."

And like that what little magic there was in the moment was gone. Pardonner half-turned away, "You have made my work much easier with this deed of yours, and for that you have my deepest gratitude."

"Y-yeah." his arms fell, probably recognizing how he might have pushed too hard there, "You're... welcome."

Pardonner turned wholly to see if Ultimo's still around, and felt a pang of regret for doing so. While it was perhaps done ultimately for rather selfish reasons, Désir did do him a momentous favor on this day. So belatedly he fidgeted and continued to the Aspect of Lust who he felt still watched him. "I'm not ready for another relationship, Désir." he provided, voice soft as cotton, "But when I am... I'll give you due consideration. Okay?"

"... Sure." Désir replied slowly, evidently surprised, "I'll be waiting, faithfully."

 _Or as faithful as the Aspect of Lust can be, I suppose. His is to seize the moment, to live passionately, not to be subtle..._ Pardonner considered this as he applied a nod and went on his way, unaware of Ultimo who had hid himself well nearby to watch... and now wore an expression of surprise at how well the conversation ended for the now ecstatic pink-haired Aspect.

There was only a matter of time before people would begin to wildly gossip about it.

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

 _Location:_ Oran Rho Cluster; Ku'ron; Vaiv.

Far as planets go, Ku'ron was a thinly populated one for one settled just over two centuries ago. Normally colonies that age supported a population of at least several million, but Ku'ron did not even have a million. A large part of the perceived fault lay in its status as a pirate hangout due to its proximity to the Terminus Systems. Far too many visited the planet for its meager law enforcement to handle.

A few months ago a contingent of the simultaneously famous and infamous Salarian STG attempted to covertly crack down on rogue elements here, only to be wiped out in a single night in the capital city of Ic. Law enforcement and Union investigation teams concluded the Geth was at fault due to the number of inert platforms at the various STG sites, though no one knew why the elusive synthetics suddenly attacked.

Much effort was undertaken to locate eyewitnesses to what happened, but none were ever found.

But unknown to the galaxy at large there were plenty of witnesses, almost all of them from the Blood Pack mercenary group which members on site sprinkled the scenes of slaughter with wrecked Geth provided by their nameless employer who also organized the assault so perfectly that it turned into nothing less than a shooting gallery for the partaking mercenaries.

One of these, the independent ones, was Urdnot Wrex who currently tried to make himself as inconspicuous – or as inconspicuous as a krogan can be – as possible as he at a sedate pace patrolled the only other place on Ku'ron with a spaceport: The coastal city of Vaiv.

Dressed in what was considered as civilian gear for krogan, Wrex walked the streets and occasionally bought whatever small drink or treat the place offered before he would stop and lean on some nearby wall.

And while at it not try to fall asleep from boredom.

No, he was not on vacation.

He was still on the job, for the target of that operation wasn't the STG, but a fugitive who attempted to call on them for aid, and who in spite of the wholesome slaughter managed to slip away in the company of one surviving agent, and one of two Geth he happened to have for bodyguards.

The standing order was to kill them on sight.

And the Blood Pack alongside most of the independents for that purpose chose to establish their bases of operation in Ic and since then maintained a steady watch on its spaceport in case the fugitives attempt to sneak off-world.

Fools.

Wrex was certain the salarians left Ic for Vaiv, the only other settlement here with a spaceport. So it was in Vaiv that he chose to set up, along with one other who managed to connect the dots.

"Location clear." an electronically blurred voice whispered into his ears, "Move on to the next position."

Usually he worked alone, but in this venture he chose to cooperate with that one other mercenary, a turian by name of Grellix. Most krogan would never work with a turian, but he chose to for entirely pragmatic reasons. Grellix was a tech wiz whose first action on arrival was to cover the coastal city with every bug he's got in his inventory, though even these could not cover every nook and cranny. So he wore a couple of bugs himself and was since then undercover, moving from one location to the next.

Another reason why he, to a point, accepted working with Grellix was because he's utterly unabrasive and has a tendency of sinking into the background. That he wore no clan markings also helped.

Of course, his 'partner in crime' had no idea he has no intention of following the employer's order. Something was fishy, he decided back in Ic, about the employer and this whole operation.

Wrex's full intention was to corner the fugitives, and hear their story.

If it indicated his suspicion was groundless, he'd kill them and collect the bounty. If not... he would help them get off-world.

"Got it." Wrex rumbled his response and left the fourth street of the town's commercial district and headed down to the next through the many locals who by now had grown rather accustomed to his presence. Few even reacted to him anymore if they happened to come across.

Like has been the routine these past months, Wrex continued along the prescribed route for the next couple of hours before he finally came full circle and wound up where he started, a cheap-ass apartment complex.

It had few key comforts to its name, but was still far better than any accommodation he could name back home. Good enough for even a thousand year old krogan to rest his hide at least. Wrex lumbered into the thirteenth apartment on the ground floor, which was built with elcor in mind, and instantly set course for the living room where Grellix has been every day, gaze stuck on the number of haptic screens in front of him. All business, every day, and every moment.

Grellix said nothing, his gray-scaled face solidly fixed forward without an ounce of concern.

Wrex found no reason to interrupt and sat himself on the sizable chair in the corner, nodding off with much promptness. A quick nap, then in another couple hours he would go out on patrol again. Look around in the places where Grellix's bugs could not be.

Last he remembered before the nap took him was the faint drizzling of rain.

...

"Wrex."

Mildly did Wrex start, and quickly checked his omni-tool. He's slept for only an hour. "You've found something?" he gnashed his tired jaws together and grumbled.

"Lost contact with three of my bugs in the last ten minutes." Grellix replied quietly, "Gear up and investigate. Coordinates will be uploaded to your omni-tool when you're ready."

Wrex harrumphed as he got up and from the boxes in his room extracted the modules of his blood red armor, and with practiced ease assembled them. It usually took him no more than twenty minutes to fully don his suit and run diagnostics, and right on the clock moved on to extract his shotgun, providing it a quick checkup in due turn.

Finally he draped onto himself a huge raincoat. A disguise if nothing else.

"Two further bugs have been lost." Grellix reported as Wrex stomped back into the living room, "We can safely assume they've arrived. Coordinates have been uploaded. Be quick."

Wrex checked and nodded, "Got it."

Before long, he was back outside and briefly took in how his raincoat thundered under the chaotic drumbeat of heavy raindrops before he moved on to the spaceport, his intent close in mind.

* * *

 _Location:_ Oran Rho Cluster; Ku'ron; Vaiv; Spaceport.

Bereft of every resource, their journey from Ic to Vaiv was nothing short of a momentous undertaking where most of the distance was closed on foot. Whatever they needed along the way that did not come from the local wildlife had to be begged, borrowed, or stolen.

It was unfortunate, but they could not afford to hold back.

Fortunately Ku'ron has a rather moist atmosphere, so it for the most part was fairly comfortable for salarians to traverse and live on – though an average salarian would have still suffered greatly from an arduous trip such as theirs.

Less fortunate was the presence of enemies even here. It was unavoidable, Mordin supposed.

"I've picked up seven bugs so far." Kirrahe muttered silently with a wave of his omni-tool, distaste in every syllable, "Brute force positioning. No finesse."

"Still eminently capable." Mordin shrugged as they cautiously strode from corner to corner, ever wary of a possible Blood Pack presence. He placed a hand on the nearby wall and winced momentarily at being reminded of how thin it has become. They were both almost dangerously malnourished from months of meals at irregular times, and dressed largely in dirty rags – what remained of the clothes they set out in. All that provided protection from both the elements and identification being long coats that concealed them and their geth companion entirely – the latter of whom since the loss of its companion back in Ic degenerated somewhat, twitching and swiveling to face each and every other sound like a demented vorcha, acting more like a guard varren for them, if one armed with a pulse rifle.

The good Captain snorted, "Of course. Now if we can just find a ship..."

"May just happen, if luck holds."

"Or it might not."

While it was unwelcome, Mordin couldn't blame his former colleague's sour mood. Thankfully it wasn't long till they found the spaceport and tried to fit in with the crowds as they entered. Far as spaceports went, this one's a simple affair, sporting much resemblance to archaic airports of pre-spaceflight civilizations – a product of the lowest bidder. Ku'ron was not on the list of particularly prosperous colonies.

"Keep your steps short." Kirrahe felt the need to remind, "One look at our footwear and they'll label us as beggars. We'll be shown out before we can think twice."

"Good to know." Mordin allowed, vaguely bobbing his head as he looked on their surroundings, momentarily puzzled as he eyed a particular couple of people. A young asari who pulled on the arm of an elderly salarian who appeared to dither oddly.

"Dad, why won't you come?"

"Not yet." the elderly salarian replied rather tamely, "I'm.. waiting for someone."

"You aren't. I was waiting for you!"

Mordin had no idea how this somehow stuck out, and had to force himself to look away when the asari peered back with a trace of suspicion in her confused eyes. "Can't help everyone, Mordin." Kirrahe muttered, noting how the doctor's attention wandered.

"Aware of that." he started to reply just to have his head pushed down, "Wha-"

"Stay down." Kirrahe hissed, "An old acquaintance just reared its ugly head."

All possible acquaintances they made in these months of travel wouldn't fill more than a page, if even that. A very particular one came to mind, however, as Mordin peered over his shoulder and found a massive figure lumbering through the crowd, and spotted a trace of red under its coat. A krogan in red armor.

Possibly the very same who effortlessly mowed down the geth he had no choice but to leave behind, who promptly snapped his head up at them... and sped up his pace considerably.

"Krogan's onto us. Problematic."

* * *

"Found them." Wrex tersely notified Grellix as he dug his boots hard into the floor and settled into a head-on charge before which the crowd knew well enough to part or be trampled underfoot. People oft imagined krogan as clumsy and slow, but that only lasted till they actually saw one pick up speed, and found out just how wrong they were.

His targets were not among them, and knew well they could never outrun him in this space. Anything that could slow them down, he could smash through. So none of them even tried.

Instead they threw themselves past the nearest counter, and took aim after a quick shot was loosed upon the ceiling. A warning meant to scatter the crowd. It did the trick for some, but these were few enough that even he took pause. Long enough that he wound up with only two decisions as the salarian who applied the warning shot and geth companion aimed for him. Either he go and take cover too, or he would erect a barrier and hold his ground.

Wrex beat his chest, decision made, and watched absently as several rounds bounced off of him just an inch short from where his kinetic barrier would have kicked in. For a reply, he raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger, his aim just low enough not to blow any of his targets' heads off yet high enough to make them duck.

The geth was not daunted for long, and rose again.

Or, that is, it tried till he flung it back with a biotic throw.

Vaguely hopeful this display had properly cowed them even if he admitted himself even that was too much to place any hope into, Wrex took a heavy step forward. It was about damned time to get things cleared up.

"You've got them pinned." Grellix's voice intruded, sounding eager, "Close in and terminate!"

"Not yet." Wrex harrumphed just loud enough for the salarians to hear, "I have words to trade."

A moment of silence followed. "There is no payment on the table for speaking with the fugitives, Wrex."

His nostrils flared, "As if I needed a reminder."

"Don't waste your time, then, Wrex."

"My time. My decision. Call you back in five." Wrex flippantly closed the line, cutting his partner off. "Now then!" he rumbled to the fugitives he was supposed to put down, "Listen up, pyjaks. You have one way out of this: Whatever story you got... spill it."

Briefly an argument flared up between them amphibians, words passing fast enough to break the sound barrier. This ended as soon as it began, and the elderly salarian he readily recognized slowly stood with arms raised, "If it aids in our escape, I find no reason to object."

Wrex slowly nodded, "That depends. What do you have to piss off someone who blindsided the STG and paid big enough a fortune to buy an army solely to kill you?"

"At the risk of sounding melodramatic:" the salarian bobbed his head, grimacing, "I know too much."

"What exactly?"

"In short: Desolas Arterius, General of the Turian Hierarchy, has lied to the Council about what transpired beyond the 419 Relay, and may very well be consorting with the kurozu without the knowledge of his superiors. All in the name of 'Turian Supremacy'."

That was big enough a bombshell that Wrex's eyes widened. Still, he snorted. "Sounds like quite the story, an unbelievable one."

"Am aware it's much to take in." Mordin admitted, "Yet, do you know the identity of your employer? Do you not wonder how exactly the complete blindsiding of the STG was accomplished? Why he dispatched mercenaries instead of his own men?"

Wrex knew the answers already. "When I first got this job, I knew it would be a tough fight – facing the STG. Instead what I found was the equivalent of shooting varren stuck in a barrel with a rocket launcher. If he is in cohorts with synthetics..."

"Desolas would be in position to provide potent AI support. Jamming all communications and blinding what sensors the STG operatives put into place. They never knew they were being hunted till it was too late."

That... made a lot of sense. Certainly the knowledge of every STG cell's location – a piece of information every mercenary was indeed given – alone could not have been the deciding factor, even if it did help.

Still, that aside, Wrex thought of Desolas. While highly decorated and loyal by all appearances, he was a known supremacist. Such a turian armed with the support of the most belligerent force ever seen in recorded history was a horrible thing to contemplate, and even he took pause at the potential consequences. All of them horrible to behold.

"Take us off this planet. And I'll explain everything." the salarian nodded, nervously looking side to side, "I'm afraid we have not enough time here to spare."

Wrex who has till now been fixated on the fugitives glanced across his wide field of vision and found what made the alien so concerned. The crowds who did not scatter at the other salarian's warning shot, most of them staff and security officers, had closed ranks and surrounded them on three sides, unnervingly silent, and staring at him and the fugitives both with unblinking eyes.

Beside that oddity, the air was strangely rank.

The place smelled like a morgue.

"Right." Wrex rumbled in assent. A change of scenery was in order.

"I'm afraid," the crowd suddenly uttered as one in a mess of gurgles and groans, "I cannot allow you to do that."

Of all the things Wrex expected, this was far off the list, "What?"

"Preposterous," they chimed, voices twisting till identical to one he knew all too well, hitching in bizarre laughter, "and I thought to provide you liberty from life the swiftest upon mission completion."

"Grellix?"

A portion of the crowd parted abruptly, allowing the lean turian he had worked with these last few months to pace on through, his movements strangely crooked. "The very same." Grellix declared with a victorious grin, "Enough about me though, let's end this."

Wrex hissed, "We'll see about that."

"Yes, show to me your krogan spirit!" Grellix cackled, and his body suddenly boiled with a hellish light that burst through his flesh and armor, causing both to slough off of him in a manner akin to a macabre waterfall, allowing black metal to shine through to the fore till all that remained of the being Wrex knew as Grellix was a matte black skeleton, its eyes glowing a stark red. "Show me the fury that once shook the galaxy!" the monster cackled madly and leaped at him with arms that stretched to become almost whip-like, "Then die!"

He recovered just quickly enough to bring his shotgun up with both hands on it and let it take the first blow, only to see it be broken, and himself sent flying into the crowd, crushing several under his massive frame before his flight was halted by a pillar.

And as one, the crowd charged.

* * *

 **Author Notes:** My computer broke down, and for three whole weeks I was without, or this chapter would have been posted earlier. Oh, and as for how Grellix managed to set up this little army on what's implied to be on such short notice. Well, it will be explained next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9: Dead Fall**_

* * *

 _Location_ : Noveria; Hollows.

Not much time has passed since the Rachni settled down far within Noveria's cavernous depths, but already have they formed what could by some be considered as quite a comely nest. Rachni young scurried everywhere within the Queen's chosen chamber where no eggs lay, some of them circling Slow and Legion with what could only be described as curiosity as they attended their mother who was decisively the largest being here, towering over everyone else. At first he was amused by all the attention, but now his own was on the effort of briefing the Queen who was curious about their enemy.

Slow accommodated her request, and engaged in a prolonged briefing that has so far lasted for almost an hour. About the aliens they would fight, what machines would likely appear, their tactics and how to fight back, and whatever else came to mind.

And they still remained on the second part. Truly did he hope the Queen could commit everything he explained to memory, but so far she has firmly paid attention.

Or, that is, before she suddenly blurted out a question, "Does our voice make you ill at ease?"

Slow blinked and hesitated, letting his gaze wander to the alien bodies she continued to use as mouthpieces. "Not your voice per se," he clarified and confessed, "more like the use of puppets. It carries a… level of passing resemblance to a particular brand of horror the kurozu used to frequently deploy."

"Past tendency or not," the Queen spoke, appearing to accept his explanation, "we did inquire as to the capabilities of our adversaries in full."

"You make a good point." Slow reluctantly conceded, "As I've already told you, the kurozu insidiousness is well and truly without end, and their capacity for cruelty is to a great degree exemplified by their usage of terror weapons we refer to collectively as… Undead."

"And these are the source of your unease?"

"Aye, though I must note my fears comes not from their combat prowess. In that area at least they are of… not much threat against armed forces unless deployed in great numbers."

"Why do they choose to use weaponry so questionable in terms of effectiveness?" Legion asked, its monotonous tone managing to contain trace amounts of confusion.

"For all their lacks, they are effective in the sowing and subsequent spread of general terror and chaos. And a portion of the reasoning comes from ease of deployment. One can never guess when an outbreak might happen next."

"How?"

"Stage One: Dispatch an Agent that infiltrates a given target area." Slow frowned in thought, and dug his claws into the ice, swift in the rough carving of a sharpened stake he proceeded to hold up and show, "All of them carry with them stores of specialized stakes that contains nanotechnological payloads. Stage Two: Having infiltrated their target area, the Agent goes on to embed these stakes into targets of opportunity, whose lives very quickly expires as the payload upon entry target all vital functions. Once expired, the payload animates the corpse through electrical discharges."

"These newly produced Undead are of limited utility, but they are capable of carrying out the victim's daily doings for a while. Most of the time, though, they are given stakes which they in turn will embed into further targets. From there, the production of Undead escalates as their numbers increase."

"One becomes two. Two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Eight becomes sixteen. Their numbers swell exponentially till the supply of stakes depletes, at which point the terror attack commences. Deployed just right, they can infect hundreds of people in the space of minutes." Slow thrust his face into his palms, "Countless innocents fell against these, unable to fight back against their defiled loved ones."

"We understand." the Rachni Queen's relayed voice shook with emotion, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We will prepare prepare accordingly."

Slow emitted a soft sigh and let his arms fall, resigned, "You're welcome… Still, it's a weapon we are unlikely to face at this location, if only because of what questions the good General would have to face from higher up. I can only hope it won't be utilized at all."

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

 _Location:_ Oran Rho Cluster; Ku'ron; Vaiv; Spaceport.

Instantly, when Kirrahe saw the krogan flung with such ease, he planted a trio of slugs into the ex-turian monstrosity responsible. It staggered under the precision onslaught and promptly withdrew, slipping into the charging crowd as it swarmed at them with outstretched hands, eager to rip them limb from limb. Kirrahe intended to disappoint them thoroughly, but was horrified by the manner of how these enemies surged at them without any concern whatsoever for self-preservation. Coupled with blank eyes that seemed blind, their faces a rictus of cold fury that slobbered uncontrollably, it pained a nightmarish picture of this situation.

Worse, when Kirrahe adjusted his aim and shot the nearest attacker's skull, it did no more than stumble before it resumed its charge. Panic almost took him over by the implications of this, but common sense quickly reigned him back in. If hitting critical areas wouldn't work, he just had to change his priorities.

He lowered his aim, and sent a slug on a merry flight through its left knee, causing the abomination to crash bodily into the floor as bones were smashed apart and the muscles pulped.

 _There we go…_

Still, it was just one of many.

Kirrahe changed target and continued to shoot, frantic while he grabbed the shoulder of Mordin who just stared ahead of himself, eyes wide open in a way Kirrahe recognized from long association yet was disquieted by. Mordin was always a man of science known to keep calm and composed in even the most dire of situations, prone to lost his temper only once in a blue moon. Veins throbbed at the surface, chins quivered, and a fury boiled in that vacant gaze Kirrahe has never before seen, focused fully on a single one who shambled along the crowd to the tune of someone whimpering ghastly.

A whimper that rose to a disturbing clarity when an asari shambled next to it.

"Monstrous." Mordin ground out, having already blazed past the 'What the hell?!' stage, just as the… creatures… ran over those Kirrahe had felled without heed, the first among them about to vault over the counter Kirrahe and Mordin used for cover, only to suddenly turn aflame, and were swept away as a quickly converted cloud of simmering ashes. From this carnage, Mordin quickly retrieved a dropped gun that used to belong to a security officer and capped his next target with it, one slug in the neck, followed by two in the knees before he finally followed, and alongside Kirrahe scrambled past the next counter in their effort to build some distance. "No life signs. None. Means of locomotion unknown, yet clear of purpose. Innocents used to produce combatants. Immoral beyond measure."

"The machines, those kurozu," Kirrahe said quietly, "sure have plunged into depths not previously explored." watching as the horde, unaffected by the losses, flooded across and around the first counter, though they did not advance unhindered as he perforated the limbs of every body that got his fullest attention. Mordin offered no reprieve either and flash-froze the nearest set of creatures with a cryo blast, all of whom shattered into a rain of shards as the forward momentum of those who followed smashed them against the second counter, followed by further losses as a prompt plasma blast turned them and those directly behind to ashes, filling the air with the stench of scorched meat.

"Never imagined possibility of such atrocity." Mordin muttered and wrathfully applied another cryo blast, "Educational, but best not known."

"I see what you mean." the Captain noted, hoping he did not come off as overly callous. Though casualties so rapidly mounted against the two of them, the crowd continued their mindless charge, ate up lost ground, and closed every gap created in their line. He knew where this would go if they stayed, "Now, while you may have a fervent desire to put these things down… I suggest we fall back."

"Understood. Too exposed here." his old friend offered a nod, and turned another line of bodies into a wall of incinerated flesh before he turned, "Suggest a hallway. More defensible."

Kirrahe followed, and as they ran engaged in a rapid-fire trade of words, "Would rather find a ship right away."

"Should contain this first." Mordin dropped a cryo blast across a wide portion of the floor directly behind them, and received due reward for his quick thinking as many of the creatures slipped and collapsed into piles of flailing limbs, "Cannot be allowed to persist. Geth still active?"

"Haven't checked on it since that krogan threw it away. Probably broken."

"Regrettable."

"Yes, yes." Kirrahe dryly hissed as he pulled ahead, "Still, I must insist. Our position – without even mentioning our present states – is untenable. Far too many lives are at stake for us to risk our own to pacify a type of opposition we have no intel on whatsoever. We have no knowledge of the method Grellix used on those people, and he, _it_ , could very well be doing this to yet more people while we dither for a way to grind them down."

Mordin frowned as he considered the reasoning, and let cold logic overpower his bout of passionate resolution. "Point taken." he accepted unhappily. "Lead us on."

He did so, ever mindful of the mindless horde chasing them like a pack of raging klixen.

* * *

 _Five minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Nirvana; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Indupitable"

"Attack by Dôji imminent! Code Black, I repeat, Code Black!"

When that message popped up on Rojus' omni-tool, he thought a rush of primal fear would issue from within his chest. Instead what he got was simple resignation as his training asserted itself, having long since accepted the risks that came with this assignment, knowing that in the case of discovery the capture of a Vorastunn by the enemy was completely unacceptable. Code Black meant a self-destruct would soon be carried out.

For several moments Rojus had waited for the prompt cessation of his corporeal existence, and did not even entertain the effort to pull himself out of the maintenance shaft he was in. Seconds passed, and minutes followed.

Rojus' mandibles twitched confusedly as the silence – broken only by the nearby reactor's steady hum – dragged on, and cautiously attempted to call for his superior, "Sir, what's happening?"

All he got for a reply was static.

Further confused, he tried to contact a colleague of his who currently worked two decks above his position.

After ten seconds of wait for answer by a man he knew to be very prompt, he was forced to conclude that no answer would come.

What's going on?

Rojus tightened his mandibles and slowly climbed back into the storage bay and marched up to the nearest turian who seemed oddly fixated on the distant elevator. Rojus was about to address him when he noticed his comrade was not standing still, he was frozen in place. Gingerly did he apply a hand onto the frozen figure's left shoulder, and determined that his present state was not the result of a cryo blast.

And it was not just him. All other turians he could see from there were likewise fixed in place.

"What's going on here?" Rojus asked himself, voice thick with bewilderment.

Echoes from other voices of neither turian nor elcor suddenly came from the elevator shaft. Alerted by this, Rojus ducked into hiding behind a pallet stacked high with rations and watched numbly – in equal parts fascination and trepidation – as a pair of dôji landed themselves and entered the storage bay with a cautious swagger in their steps. When no turian in their presence offered as much as a twitch, the synthetics visibly relaxed. One of them cocked its head, followed by sudden flashes of light that caused every last frozen turian in sight to vanish like they were never there. At this display, all the turian engineer could do was stare blankly. It was fair to assume this happened to everyone else.

"Well," the most distant dôji remarked casually as it brushed back its unnecessarily long and purple mane, its narrowed eyes a distinct yellow and brown, "looks like we're all done..."

"Or, maybe we're not." the shorter one by its side, whose gaze shone a piercing white and red, spoke up as it pointed at the maintenance shaft Rojus had left behind, "See that shaft over there? Could be more aliens down there."

The other tutted, "Turians."

"Whatever." it rolled its eyes, "Let's check it out so we can leave already."

"Speak for yourself. Not often do one get the opportunity to be in the presence of an Aspect, let alone multiple."

 _Aspects? Sounds like something important…_ Rojus considered the information unknowingly provided before it occurred to him to switch onto a different side of the pallet if he was to remain out of sight, and watched carefully from his new position as the two dôji strolled past and climbed down the shaft one after the other.

Soon as both were out of sight, he made best speed for the elevator and hurriedly climbed its emergency ladder, intent on the _Indupitable_ 's CIC. With speed, tempered by just enough caution to stop whenever he heard movement stray too close for comfort, he made his way up the base's tiny command deck, which he found unexpectedly void of activity. It made little sense to Rojus, though he praised his luck for the mercy given. For certain the spirits must be with him.

Drawing strength from that belief, Rojus made his entrance into the CIC… only to stop dead in horror as he came face to face with a single dôji that immediately turned its dark-haired head and obliquely looked back at him with bland interest. "Good job evading the search parties, Rojus Hakkar."

This… completely threw Rojus off. He expected a potentially gruesome death, not an accolade.

"I suppose a lecture's due for the subordinates of mine." it shrugged and returned its attention to the haptic displays currently up, deftly manipulating the CIC's interface with some intensity, "Feel free to come in."

Rojus was so unbelievably shocked that he crossed the threshold and allowed the door to slide shut without thinking. A second later, his brain successfully rebooted, "How do you know my name?" It was the very first of many questions to come to mind. Doubtlessly his family would have shaken their heads at his choice of priorities.

It dismissively flipped into view the base's crew list, and opened Rojus' file. _Ah._

"I noticed you when I first came down." the synthetic informed dryly, "From there I just had to access the crew list and cross-reference with current work orders, and concluded the person I picked up on was you."

"If you knew, why did you let me walk free?"

"Call it a test for the young." it said, actually sighing, "Now there's little choice but to lecture them for their sloppy work. It's not acceptable to not be thorough when the situation requires it."

"An illogical choice." Rojus was baffled, astonished that a machine would gamble like that… or at all, "A straggler-"

Monotonously, it continued for him; "could, if he felt properly inclined, have gone and toggled the self-destruct function or whatever else comes to mind."

"If you're so aware, why?"

"Preventing that's what precautionary measures are for."

It took him a moment to take that in before he broke out in cold sweat and swallowed nervously as he cast a furtive glance upon a socket in the wall, and already knew the physical mechanism for the _Indupitable_ 's self-destruct function had been removed. With a little time he could have potentially worked around this, but there was no way this synthetic would let him go and do that.

"An efficient system in function and doesn't use dedicated devices that would otherwise be a waste of space," his impromptu conversational partner muttered idly as it browsed what Rojus recognized was the base schematics, "instead it very simply cause a delayed detonation through the purging of coolant from the core."

Rojus didn't listen, deaf to its words as he wallowed at his helplessness. "What are you waiting for then, machine?" he growled at it, "If you have any decency in your cold circuits, kill me now and get this over with."

It emitted another sigh, sounding exasperated as it turned halfway to look him dead in the eyes, "I'm not going to kill you, Rojus. So spare me the melodrama. You're going to be put onto a transport and brought to the nearest prison dome."

Defiantly, he folded his arms and glared, "Where I'm going to be a live test subject, right?"

"See for yourself." the dôji retorted, sounding weary, and raised the massive palm of its left-hand gauntlet to his face with effortless grace.

Rojas did not even get the time to think of a witty reply as he collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, instantly in a deep state of sleep.

* * *

There was little point in continued conversation, so Pardonner without further ado made Rojus go comatose, then caught him with an arm when his body went limp from the current state of mind. Not a particularly gentle way to go about it, but far as Rojus was concerned… he blacked out for a moment and woke up succinctly among his undeniably confused crewmates as they are transported to their new – hopefully temporary – home.

With nary a huff he hefted the body onto his left shoulder and prepared to receive whatever quips the soldiers at this location might dole out on his way up.

A few would probably laugh, but not once he sets them straight.

Pardonner considered for a few seconds whether to complete his study of the base schematic before going, his gaze cast longingly upon the haptic presentation. Seconds broken by the decision that it can wait for the few minutes he'll be gone. Just a little longer and he would finally have a good idea on how to produce viable stealth-capable ships, but in that time the transporter might very well leave from lack of further alien sightings.

"Now, let's get you to the others." the Aspect patted the turian's flank as he had the door opened and headed out, "I suppose it won't be the happiest of reunions, but things will get better in time."

* * *

 _Location:_ Oran Rho Cluster; Ku'ron; Vaiv; Spaceport; Hangar.

Mordin watched with some bitterness from a window as a fair stretch of the spaceport burned. A consequence born from the many acts of general arson and vandalism he and Kirrahe carried out to give the swarm of raging living dead the slip for at least long enough to find what they came here for. And within this building they finally managed to find one... an old corvette used primarily for emergencies. It was good to go, except for a certain deficit in fuel. A particular detail Kirrahe was currently all over on the far side of the chamber.

It was a step in the right direction, though paltry compared to the cost. To remind himself of said cost, all he had to do was look upon the hellish landscape outside in which the only sign of life was a smattering of distant sirens courtesy of every emergency department in Vaiv that would handle the mess left behind.

And he truly meant it when that was the only sign of life he could discern, for the horde of walking corpses that limped and marched their way from the terminal most certainly did not count.

If only they had some flammable fuel. He could have erected a fairly respectable, if unethical, makeshift ramparts for these creatures to meander through.

Armed with no more than an omni-tool and a pistol, he just had to make do.

"Should have implemented tech armor." Mordin groused to himself as he withdrew from the window and neared the spacecraft, "Enemies on approach. Will attempt to waylay. Status?"

"These machines are at least a decade old. It will take a short while to get this started."

Mordin accepted the tiding drearily as he checked on how much energy remained, "May not even have so much."

"Once we got enough fuel on board, I'll get the ship's turret up and running." Kirrahe shouted back, "Should even the odds."

"Much appreciated. Do hurry." Mordin just barely finished his sentence before there came a clash of meat against metal as the living dead met with the building and made a fevered attempt to claw their way in. An effort made successful when the a screech of metal violently torn apart rang through the building. "Grellix." he sourly concluded.

"There may be a breach." Kirrahe called out unnecessarily, "Keep your guard up."

Once the scream died down, it was replaced by a loud cacophony of groans and shambling noises that drowned out all other sounds. Mordin frowned and resolutely readied a concentrated cryo blast, waiting for the monsters to come out of the woodwork. A wait during which several other breaches were made, aggravating the ongoing discordance greatly into a continuous incoherent choir that simply went on and on without the appearance of even a single living dead till even Mordin felt his nerves almost give in to paranoia, upon which time they finally came from entrances downrange and additional openings abruptly made by cold unfeeling claws. Grellix clearly didn't want its minions to get trapped in a bottleneck.

Mordin did not hesitate, and raised his arms when the air suddenly shifted where it really shouldn't. Not in here, not in this confined space. Whatever feeling he got down his spine in that instant did not even qualify yet as a chill, yet he ducked with all haste… and watched with morbid fascination as the cloth on his left shoulder was sliced open along with an inch worth of his flesh, from which more blood than was probably healthy sprayed forth and decorated a clawed whip-like limb that was black as night, attached to the very last creature Mordin wanted to see at this critical juncture.

"Those reflexes aren't too shabby, salarian." Grellix touched down not far away, and wheezed a dark laughter, "Too bad they won't help you for much longer!" before it flung itself at him again, claws brandished.

A dozen different options filled Mordin's mind as he stared, his mind much faster than his body could appropriately follow. Each solution was viable, but time was all too short, and he was forced to concede the possibility of his death even as he heard Kirrahe cry out from somewhere out of sight.

Death seemed inevitable.

An assessment someone out there disagreed with as six living dead not far behind Grellix suddenly came apart in a shower of gore that came to strike onto the former turian alongside what appeared at first glance to be an oversized cannon round that upon impact violently slapped it far enough away he bowled over a dozen minions before gravity finally took it to the ground.

Stunned, Mordin turned his head to where that round had come from and found a small hole in the hangar door, which expanded drastically in size when a colossal being in full armor forced its way through. A very angry krogan covered in blood, seemingly on the very precipice of blood rage if the loud growls emitted were of any indication. Wrex was alive against all odds, and was positively furious.

Many of the living dead present issued a charge, only to splash into gruesome pieces in a great show of destruction when Wrex brought up his shotgun, flicked out several grenades, and commenced a general wholesale slaughter. Mercilessly he mowed down the living dead in droves, and grunted approval every time a grenade detonated. Wrex brandished also his biotics to swat bodies aside, and devastating headbutts whenever the living dead strode close enough to warrant such attention. He delivered such meticulous violence that the amount of living dead quickly depleted, leaving only Grellix, who almost awkwardly stood, gaze alight with bewilderment and rage. "Urdnot Wrex, I was under the distinct impression I left you on the cusp of death."

"I got better." Wrex snorted indignantly, "Better than you will be in a minute."

"How funny." Grellix launched himself at the krogan.

Wrex swiftly erected a barrier, stood his ground, and waited for the machine to come close enough to have its claws converge before he reared back… and smashed the former turian into the floor with a headbutt that could have shattered bones to powder. But given the nature of his opponent, Grellix was only winded, and bounced back on to the attack... only to be pinned as Wrex applied a boot on its right elbow, then grabbed hold of its left arm's wrist as it tried to swipe at him. An effort that visibly strained the ancient krogan.

Grellix, rattled, laughed at the krogan's effort, "What, you aim to wrestle me down? My ascended form is vastly superior; my strength outstrips yours, and my armor is unbreakable!"

"How about your insides?" Wrex grumbled, and shoved the barrel of his shotgun deep into its mouth. A nonchalant pull of the trigger followed, and the astonished Grellix's head explosively flew from the neck in a fashion entirely without drama. "Pyjak." the krogan muttered once, and while the body twitched its last discarded it and approached, head slightly tilted. "Crappiest getaway vehicle I've seen in a while. Is it spaceworthy at all?"

"It will be soon." Kirrahe warily replied as he came to Mordin's side, unsure on whether to focus on the battlemaster or the bleeding shoulder of his companion. "We thought you died."

Wrex's spat out bloody phlegm, eyes narrowed, "So you did. Get that junk heap up and running, I'll kill whatever else comes."

Grimly, Mordin observed as Kirrahe showed slight signs of incensement at the notion of being ordered around by a mercenary and interjected before anything unfortunate could take place, "Appreciated, Wrex." his tone kept even in spite of the piercing pain, "Captain. Focus on task. I will handle the bleeding myself."

His companion stared exasperatedly at him for the duration of a blink of the eye, emitted a low sigh, then with hands thrown up turned about heel and made his way back while the krogan surveyed the bloodied perimeter. Mordin too looked on, and quietly grieved at the waste of so many lives before he walked away to get his wound treated, vowing quietly all the while that, whatever it takes, there will be a reckoning.

But first, their next destination: Sur'kesh.

* * *

 _A day later…_

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil; Concert Hall.

"I… I can't believe this queue."

"When someone famous holds a concert, Prazza," Promina replied, fairly nonplussed as he checked on the food and drinks they brought along, all of both stored in a bag he lugged along, "it'd be odd if the resulting queue didn't get like this."

That logic Kefila was fully on board with, though even she could not quite hide her exasperation. It's been an hour since they entered the queue and they still weren't past the entrance. She was honestly quite tired of waiting, and wanted to get in more than anything as she listened to the music that rumbled from within the building with a steadily rhythmic basso. It was just of the instrumental sort, devoid of lyrics, meant to tide the attendees over while they waited for the concert to start. Her thoughts kept returning to that dance-off she had with Service just yesterday, which was meant to be little more than a test to see if his dancing's the real thing.

What followed was pure delight.

There were no sign of any hitches or awkward transitions. Service moved fluidly, gracefully, his every step filled with passion yet measured and restrained by a sense of professionalism born from a weight of experience she usually only saw in those more seasoned at the art than her rather than computation. Service also gave every indication of how he enjoyed their little contest, and the attention of those who came to spectate… for whom he moved with a little more energy and emphasis on what Kefila supposed was a flaunting of assets.

It was not to say that she was without chance, however. While she did lack for experience, their passion was the same, and their love for the art was the same. In those two aspects they were equal to one another.

Service expressed so much once they finished, and expressed sincere regret that they didn't have the time to practice or he'd have her on the scene with him at the concert. It was such an honest admission that her heart skipped a beat, much to her own astonishment.

 _What would my clan, let alone my family, think if I told them I_ _almost_ _fell_ _for_ _a synthetic?_ Kefila wondered.

"Ma'am?" Kal interrupted her reminiscence, "Your ticket."

"Ah?" she was surprised to learn they now, at long last, stood before the ticket booth.

The dôji inside of it huffed impatiently, "Your ticket, if you have one."

"Yes, yes I do..." Kefila rifled through her many pockets till she found and provided it, "Here you go."

He checked, then placed a stamp and returned it, "All in order. Enjoy."

"I aim to."

"Must have been a sweet dream for you to grin like that." Promina felt the need to point out as they followed the crowd inside, the music gaining in volume.

Nao shrugged, albeit in a slightly playful manner, "Probably thinking of her new boyfriend."

"What. You're kidding me?!" Prazza growled, disgust thinly veiled.

"Shut up, Prazza..." Kefila hissed back, cheeks slightly red, "It's nothing like that."

Tali giggled, "Huh, and how many times do you think the universe have heard those words, I wonder."

Ah, she wanted to be angry with them, but couldn't. What she could rightly call anger faded away in favor of awe as they left the lobby behind and entered a largely circular chamber so large it probably wouldn't have shamed the Presidium. Past all the multitude of dazzling stage lights and laser effects that lit up the entirety of the empty space, and the music now so loud they had little choice but to shout if they wished to communicate, she identified two areas: A bar; and a dance floor, both orbiting a seemingly decorative pit in the center. There was no sign of a stage outside of raised platforms where numerous dancers already performed with great luster and focus.

Kefila greedily took all of this in, and was sufficiently dazzled that she did not at all remember their march to the far side of the chamber where Promina found them a table. "Looking rather dazed there..." she vaguely heard Tali shout in concern, "Are you alright?"

"Never been better." she replied breathlessly as her eyes wandered, trying to find the main stage. "How much longer till the concert starts?"

"Not much longer." Promina informed in a professional as he placed his bag onto the table and opened it, "Anyone thirsty by the way?"

"I am." Tali confirmed.

Kefila and the rest did likewise, and soon they all sipped happily the drinks provided, each of them deliciously cold and full of flavor that could only be described as tantalizingly fresh. "Mm," Nao hummed in an appreciative manner, "what's this taste?"

"Pear." Promina responded, "Not the genuine article, but the flavor's perfectly accurate far as I've been told."

"Honestly, I have no idea how you do it. You got none of the original source material, yet you're able to synthesize into existence perfect replicas of food that no longer exists." Nao reclined in her seat, arms folded, "And that's without going into how you alter the chemistry to accommodate us."

"You can thank the Aspect of Gluttony for that." Promina brought a mug to his face and sipped. Kefila cocked her head, wondering how he can do take in physical sustenance without a visible mouth. "With all foodstuff gone and the prospect of never being able to enjoy the food he used to make as a chef-bot, he was obsessed to come up with a workaround. An endeavor at which he eventually succeeded. That's how the story go anyway."

"Such an obsession could have been useful elsewhere if you ask me." Tali said gloomily.

Promina, shoulders slumped, took another sip from his mug, "One of the reasons he managed such a feat in the first place was because of technology salvaged from human ruins. And therefore, because of how thoroughness of-"

"Stop, seriously." Kefila interjected straight out, her voice fully solemn, "I want no gloominess going on right now. No grim recollection. Makes my drink taste badly."

"… You're right." Tali admitted, slightly flustered, "This isn't the time for this kind of talk."

"Indeed, ma'am." Kal nodded. "And unless I miss my guess, it looks like something's happening."

He was right. Kefila observed in rapt fascination as the music toned down into a soft thrum and the lights flashed and stilled to focus on a single circular platform that now rose from the middle with such intensity that the single figure who stood upon it was surrounded by a vast array of shadows that seemed to meld and transform together as it raised a bulbous gauntlet in a greeting gesture.

"Good evening, everyone!" Service called cheerily, with emotion that seemed to touch every person like his words did, and received a roar of approval in return that almost made the place shake, "Thank you, thank you for coming here tonight. I love you, I truly do~" he continued smilingly, "When I first arranged this concert, it was to celebrate the bravery of our people, our steadfastness in the face of a difficult time. Now, I also wish to celebrate the courage of those few aliens who risked their lives to come visit us."

Kefila felt herself blush as she made eye contact with Service, who had no trouble finding them among the thousands of attendees at all, "Let's offer these representatives our warmest welcome and hospitality as we revel and enjoy ourselves in this beautiful night."

Another roar responded to him, slightly lower than the former but interspersed with hearty applause.

"Now, without further ado, let us get the sound on!" Service called, and before a moment passed the ongoing music made a seamless transition and returned to its prior volume, this time playing a far more upbeat tune, so light of heart that Kefila's fluttered.

Service on his side did little for the first few seconds as he with subtle sways in his motion stepped side to side in tune to the rhythm played before he raised to his mouth a microphone Kefila was perfectly sure was entirely symbolic given how easily his voice reached all of them without it.

And then he sang.

Kefila was at once entranced by the perfection of his singing voice, eclipsing fully the enchanting dance of yesterday. Beautiful enough that she for what felt like a minute forgot how to breathe.

"How many songs will there be?" she heard Nao ask almost dreamily, like she never wanted this to end.

"About fifty, so brace yourselves." Promina answered, leaning on the table with utmost pleasure in his voice, "It's going to be more intense from here."

"I suppose we may as well try and enjoy ourselves." Kal coughed as he stood and awkwardly offered Tali a hand, "May I have this dance, ma'am?"

Tali's reaction was glorious, stuttering a surprisingly shy affirmative as she accepted his hand and walked with him onto the dance floor. A sufficiently adorable sight that Kefila took her eyes from Service's dazzling visage for a few sparse seconds, long enough that he got to witness a flustered and confused Prazza being suddenly pulled from the table by an eager dôji with lavender eyes and long mane of deep blue that glittered in the flashing light effects.

"Milady." Kefila blinked in surprise and turned to see another dôji approach her gracefully before he issued a slight bow, "Sorry about my overly eager friend over there, he just-"

"N-no, there's no problem." she replied, amused by the sight of her annoying crewmate being made to dance with the one who took him away, "So long as he's not rough."

"Oh, for all his brash enthusiasm he really does mean well." her new conversational partner said with a nod, then offered a yellow-tinged gauntlet to her, palm up, "As do I. Would you like to join me on the dance floor, milady?"

Kefila glanced over at Service who by now appeared to be completely absorbed in his singing before she turned back and carefully placed a hand against one of his claws, curling her fingers around it, "I'd love to. And it's Kefila by the way."

"Soron is mine." Soron introduced himself and like a perfect though diminutive gentleman led her into the massed throng that covered the dance floor, making just enough room to get started, then lose themselves in the wonderful rhythmic cacophony.

And from there, the night turned to bliss.

* * *

 **Author notes:** Assembling this chapter was hard beyond belief. Many times I just got bogged down by a hell of a writer's block. Considered using real lyrics in the concert section but in the end opted out of it. But enough lamentation. Next chapter Javik will make his reappearance.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Departure**

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

Tali yawned, and felt awkward for it. Mentally and physically fatigued from all the fun she had at the concert she snored away all of the morning hours, yet still she managed to remain so tired that another four hours seemed apt in her mind. Nevertheless she had forced herself up and ate a late breakfast before they finally assembled and with a little help by Ultimo left the city in favor of the countryside, their next sojourn.

What they found just past the spatial ball was a comely village made up of frefabs and well-furbished wooden structures. Combined with roads of gravel the place looked like it belonged to a different age entirely.

"This is a lot different from Yggdrasil." Kefila observed, and glanced to Prazza who appeared like to not talk for most of the day – unable to get over the fact that his impromptu partner during the concert had gone the length to flirt with him. It did not help him that he felt confusion rather than disgust about the whole thing.

"Naturally." Promina answered, hefting the bag from yesterday onto his left shoulder, "Unlike Yggdrasil, Oinari village was built from the ground and up to be an agricultural community with an emphasis placed on lack of overt sophistication. It's population's made up of mostly veterans who found it within themselves the desire to settle down somewhere quiet and peaceful."

Tali hummed curiously, "So, they got cattle and fields of vegetables? What do they have of those?"

"Anything native they can get their claws on." the com dôji said, "Gargants are attractive option far as cattle go. Their meat's pretty popular."

"It still sounds strange to hear synthetics talking about food." Kal admitted in the midst of what was implied to be a grimace, "Gives me a funny feeling."

Promina looked like he was going to throw a joke related to the subject out there when he raised a claw, but apparently thought better of it. Instead he gestured for the road ahead, "Never mind that. Let us move on, shall we?"

Tali provided a nod of confirmation and they followed Promina through the crowd ahead that barely paid any attention to them beyond fleeting glances before they lost interest and returned to the prior order of business – which by the looks of things appeared to be shopping.

"Looks pretty busy for a sleepy farming village." Nao noted.

"A small festival crops up every once a while." Promina explained evenly as he briefly stopped to allow a dôji with child past him, "One large part of it's the selling and buying of new cuisine produced with native goods. Lots of unique flavors that draw in a lot of visitors."

"So, essentially, they're trying out each others recipes."

"Pretty much."

As they passed on through, Tali looked on the various booths, almost all of them sporting alien food items that looked positively delicious. Was it not for the knowledge that nothing here's fit for consumption by Quarians she would have gladly tried some. So it was with some regret that Tali instead focused on the road, and followed it into the farmlands that provided a different sort of beauty, vast expanses of green interrupted only by herds of grazing animals and patches of plowed soil filled with lines of vegetables. She watched as one rough dôji planted seeds in such a patch, an effort broken by a snappish wave of irritation as a couple of bird attempted to land and feed.

They crossed a bridge before long, and continued along in near reverent silence as the hustle and bustle behind them became distant, until they found what must be the last farm along this trail and found there an alien who tended to the nearest field of vegetables with a surprisingly primitive mattock until he spotted them and blinked all of his four eyes in surprise.

"When the boss said some quarians' coming by soon," the batarian clothed in dirty overalls growled in disbelief, swinging the mattock onto his broad left shoulder without a care to the dirt that fell off and onto him during the motion, "I thought he was kidding."

"And I was surprised to learn there was a batarian here of all places, doing community service." Tali remarked as she approached the fence, "A rather light punishment considering your choice of occupation. Can't say I sympathize."

The batarian snorted derisively, "Good. I need no pity from the likes of a suit-rat."

"Enough of that." Promina stated out loud as he strode forth and stood between them, cutting off what could have easily turned into a confrontation Tali was nigh-poised to escalate, and Prazza more so given the growl of anger she heard come from his general direction. "Go and notify your boss that we have arrived at once, or I will notify him myself of this slight."

"... Fine." the batarian grounded out in resignation, his attitude quenched at once by the implied possibility of punishment. He made a lazy turn and lumbered toward the house up ahead.

Promina turned to them and bowed meekly, "Sorry about that."

"We could have handled it." Prazza huffed his bravado, arms folded.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but the owner of this farm would not appreciate damage to his... workforce. So, let's just wait instead. Less chance of injury."

Lackily it did not take long before the batarian was gone, and a dôji appeared in his stead. A delicate-looking one with long flowing hair and dressed in green. Additionally one of his gauntlets was bulkier than the other, which indicated him as pregnant. "Good morning." he greeted evenly, "Allow me to offer you a warm belated welcome to our village, in case someone haven't done so already. My name is Lyta Lyle, and due to request I am to act as your guide for today."

Tali did not quite expect such a formal greeting from a former, which given his countenance she should have, "Thank you. I'm Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and am grateful for your assistance. We're just here for the prothean, though."

"I'm aware." Lyta Lyle said and looked into the distance, toward the still-rising sun, "Javik's usually at the shrine in this time of the day. Typically he meditates before the obelisk within for at least two hours, and I've no doubt he's still there. Come, I'll show you to him."

"We're in your hands, Lyta Lyle." Tali nodded, and they followed him into and across the farm where she found plenty of animals as of yet unknown to the galaxy at large. Blubbery creatures hovered within an enclosure, buoyed by what she supposed was some form of gas, while herds of massively meaty creatures stomped and grazed about – one of whom stared like it wanted to eat her. Grimacing at this, Tali did her best to ignore the beasts and proceeded to the far end of the farm where they climbed past the fence and wandered across a length of wilderness.

Nao soon applied a question that had begun to surface in Tali's mind, "How far away is the shrine?"

"Until a while ago it was right next to the farm, but when an excavation team uncovered the entrance to the Prothean facility that is directly underneath our feet it was relocated to a well-situated and elevated location close by." Lyta Lyle informed dutifully, "Back then it was no more than an obelisk, so, soon as Javik gave his approval, the relocation was easy."

He continued, "Also, because of how recent that development was, there are no roads as of yet."

"I don't really care about the lack of road." Nao shrugged, "Done my fair share of globe trotting in my time. What can you tell us about that facility?"

"Not much more than you've been told, I'm sure. I know why it was built, and why the undertaking for which it was purposed largely failed." Lyta Lyle listed the specific subjects, "That's about it."

"What happened?"

"Basically, the galactic civilization of his time had its own trouble with AI. It was completely obliterated in a prolonged war until Javik's forces managed to cripple the machines beyond recovery. After that, all he could do to save what remained was seclude them in that facility until what was left of the machines broke down."

Tali felt her heart bleed in sympathy. What the protheans went through was something quarians could relate to easily. It was a fate the quarian people would have suffered had their ancestors stayed any further on Rannoch. One the humans were unfortunate to have suffered in full. "How did it fail?" she asked, a little weak in her tone. It did not escape her notice of how hard it would make for most organics in the galaxy to even consider coexistence with the dôji with yet another cautionary tale of organics wiped out by synthetics hanging over their heads.

Lyta Lyle's answer was a somber one, "One of the machines managed to find the place, and sabotaged it so it would not thaw out the protheans when the time came, and instead continue operations until its energy reserves depleted."

"And killed everyone stored there..." Nao completed for him, utterly joyless, "Keelah... what a nightmare it must have been for him to wake up and find out what happened. He could not have possibly been appreciative of you..."

"Oh, he really wasn't. For a while, once he found out about us, being synthetics, he was understandably hostile and suspected treachery from us at every turn. Still, he came around eventually. Turns out a fish dish did a fair amount of the work for us. "

Nao's solemnity was replaced by an air of perplexity, "Huh?"

Lyta Lyle shrugged and pointed ahead, "Ask him when we get there. Now look ahead, we're almost within view of it."

They did so, and Tali found he was quite right as she upon cresting a large hill found herself gaze upon a steel-gray structure that because of the state of excavation and a large gaping entrance made it seem as though it had pushed itself from the soil to ravage the small installation around it like some metallic thresher maw.

From there it did not take long before Lyta Lyle brought them to the most elaborate building, built with more permanence in mind then the prefabs dotting the landscape, shaped roughly like a partially transparent and open-aired pyramid with an apex that emitted a gentle cyan light. Within she could already see a centrally placed obelisk, and a seated figure shrouded in shadow. A sight that made excitement bubble up from Tali's gut.

 _Liara would have killed for an opportunity like this..._

Tali forced the excitement down, aware of how improper it would be to accidentally convey the image of a giddy child to the last member of a species that much of the galaxy looked up to in some way and another. She steadied her breathing and counted the steps till they stood upon the entrance where their guide momentarily paused.

"We're here." he announced, voice kept low, "Be on your best behavior, alright?"

After a moment of consenting silence, they entered. Tali held her breath as she watched the prothean whose back was for now turned to them, meditating from the looks of it. "Javik," Lyta Lyle walked to the alien's side and inclined slightly, "you have guests."

"So it seems." the prothean rumbled dryly, his voice masculine and deep, before he committed to a full turn of his seated position so he faced them instead. Tali was momentarily struck by his vaguely insect-like appearance, and the quartet of piercingly yellow eyes that contained exotic double-pupils. He watched them inscrutably, "I heard there was a quarian among the few who have so far accepted these synthetics, yet a group of them stand before me now."

"We're working to change that, and hopefully by extension the current state of affairs." Tali said as she carefully strode closer and sat herself, finding the floor surprisingly warm, "At least, we are giving it our best shot."

"I see." Javik answered expressionlessly.

"A task fraught with complications... yet easier than what you must have gone through." Tali weighed her words carefully, and struggled to keep from stuttering as his gaze bored into hers, "We heard from your acquaintance here on what caused your people to be wiped out. Now I'm no diplomat in any official capacity, but nevertheless... on behalf of the Quarian people I offer you our deepest condolences."

"A small gesture, but appreciated." the prothean offered a slow nod, though his eyes remained grim, "Nothing quite like being painstakingly aware that my species may end with me."

"'May'?" Prazza spoke up once a glum moment had passed, "You're speaking like there's still hope."

"Formerly all I had was aspiration, to discover for myself a new purpose in life. But these dôji are not satisfied by just that and have been stubbornly striving to lend me more a reason to hold on."

"Er, what else can they do?"

"Take a long look," he gestured over his shoulder, "and you may guess why."

Tali at first frowned, wondering what exactly he meant. For a second she looked at the obelisk before she then focused it onto the installation entrance, and found several containers being carried, their sides full of honeycombed slots. Empty ones being brought in and others being carried out – noticeably laden, each slot plugged shut.

"What are in those containers?" she asked.

"Stasis pods." Javik said, "Each one's being shipped to and from a waiting laboratory where checks are being run to check for even the smallest trace of prothean genetic material. What do you believe they will do if they find any?"

She nodded. "They will try to revive the prothean species by producing enough to provide at least the most minimally viable population."

Murmurs passed between her comrades, astonished ones. Tali had to struggle not to be taken in by the excitement as at this point the endeavor was not one guaranteed to succeed. But if it succeeded... protheans not only would have a future. More than that, it would very possibly garner much goodwill from Council Space when they learn of it. She was ashamed of herself for lending her thoughts so quickly in such a political direction, but they needed every tiny bit to aid in the ending of the Council's pointless war on the dôji.

The big picture was what she needed to focus on.

"Tali." Promina said, prodding her right shoulder with a solitary claw, "Pardonner would like to see you."

She turned her head, and saw how her comrades now actively plied Javik with questions. "He's back?"

"He'll be outside in just a moment."

Tali accepted this and left them for the outside where she found the Aspect of Patience lean on a nearby tree, arms folded, "You needed to talk?"

"Just wanted to notify you of the most recent development." Pardonner told her idly, "I have just completed the blueprints to a viable stealth frigate and placed the requisition for one into the Tenjo's production queue. In no more than a week from now it will be completed and ready for use."

"Just one week?" Tali asked incredulously, her desire to see the Tenjo's production facility in operation up close was almost palpable, "You mean to say we can be out and on our way to Noveria no later than that?"

"Yes. Provided, of course, that your current efforts finishes within that time frame."

Tali propped a her left hand on the corresponding hip, smiling, "At this pace, we'll be done long before."

"Understood."

"So does it mean you're free at this time?"

"For now."

"Then you won't mind staying with us up and until we've reported back to the Admiral." Tali said as she inclined and placed a hand on his left shoulder, "We would greatly appreciate it."

Pardonner hummed dryly, and applied an accepting nod, "Fair enough. I was meant to be with you before that debacle on Nirvana had me pulled away after all."

"Great." she grinned, her already good mood improving, "With that out of the way, let's head inside. Considering the exclusiveness of this visit I dare not contemplate what might happen if Prazza, that idiot, goes on to ask some stupid questio-""

"Too late for that." he interrupted flatly as if having just heard something less than favorable.

"Oh." Tali's joy fell away as she rushed back in, "Keelah..."

* * *

 _Five hours later..._

 _Location:_ Arcturus System; Relay 419 Blockade; Atrin-Class Dreadnought "Vanguard"

 _To think I once thought of this as a dull posting..._ General Oraka thought to himself as he through bloodshot eyes watched a battle unfold that simply refused to ever end. Incursions could not even end before yet more machine forces catapulted through the relay to sow yet further discord, the intensity such that his fleet was not allowed the shifts that would have given each section of it much needed reprieves.

More than anything he wanted to sleep, but had to instead be content with yet another injection of stims.

He watched the holographic projection of the Arcturus System, and scanned every icon that signified individual flotillas and squadrons. Thousands of ships organized into several layers of staggered formations with a spread of several light years each, all of them constantly bombarding the debris field orbiting the 419 relay and the large number of kurozu units that pushed themselves clear even now, undaunted by their opposition. Each of them were sniped and destroyed in meticulous detail, several managing to buy just enough time to either perform a tactical jump or let loose a retaliatory volley that forced a flotilla to relocate. As for those who jumped, several frigate squadrons are already on intercept.

Minutes passed, and soon the stragglers were removed.

It should have allowed a respite. General Oraka knew better by now, and no sooner did he close his eyes for a spell before yet another wave materialized. He waited as target acquisitions were made, and gave the order to open fire once his second reported readiness.

So it came as a shock when six cruisers from 27th and 51st flotillas were suddenly run through by what seemed to be giant laser beams at first and scattered into seared clouds of debris.

"What just happened?" General Oraka demanded.

His second was prompt, "The enemy has deployed a new vessel, sir. Its size indicate a Dreadnought."

"Dreadnought." he murmured, "How many?"

"Just one."

"You expect me to believe that one dreadnought destroyed six targets simultaneously, regardless of the distance between them?"

A moment of foreboding silence. "That's... indeed the case, sir."

"Bring it up on screen."

"Of course, sir."

Every unit deployed against them so far were entirely utilitarian, built for a singular purpose with no attention to aesthetics of any form. Thus it took no more than an instant for worry to fill his mind when it appeared to him, advancing ominously through the cloud of junk. Its hull a pitch black, and shaped in the image of a cuttlefish. It was such a departure from the prior designs that he could only reason that it's a composite creation of every prior design of recent make merged into one single monstrous vessel.

Then it splayed the five limbs that sprung from its front, and in so doing exposed its belly. It and the tip of each extremity emitted light from what he assumed to be a preparation to fire. An assumption he was proven correct in when it opened fire.

A full volley from an opposing flotilla reached it by then, only to bounce off from its slanted hull without once penetrating its kinetic barrier.

"Make this a call for every ship." Oraka demanded urgently, "I want every gun on that ship immediately."

"Acknowledged." his second was at it already, until he suddenly paused, "Er, sir..."

Oraka felt a pit build up in his gut, "What?"

"A second dreadnought just entered the system."

"Spirits." he clenched his jaws, "All guns, now!"

"On the way."

Oraka stared back at the monster as it joined with the second and prepared to open fire again, and was determined to see them reduced to scrap before he alerts the Hierarchy and the Council about this development.

* * *

 _Location:_ Abyssal Shelf Cluster; Quarian Migrant Fleet; "Qwib-Qwib"

From the very beginning, Admiral Zaal'Koris knew what would happen if his colleague, Rael'Zorah, or anyone affiliated with him, discovered that the Tali on the _Neema_ was in fact a body double. Immediately the Admiralty Board decided to put him on 'house arrest' for the duration of the investigation for being the body double's superior officer.

It was a perfectly logical thing to do, he supposed.

Now all that stood betwixt him and the possibility of exile was the outcome of Tali's mission. All he could do was hope it produced the desired result. In any case he expected her to report back within the next few days or week at least.

So, naturally, he was quite surprised when one of his confidants suddenly approached and informed him that their QEC just received a coded signal.

This was why he now stood within the _Qwib-Qwib's_ QEC chamber and waited in bated anticipation.

Static flooded the chamber for a second before his confidant's, Veni'Koris' voice rang through, "The adjustments are nearly complete, Admiral."

"Good." Zaal replied, standing stiffly at attention with his arms folded firmly behind his back, "Establish connection the moment you're able."

That left only one further subject for consideration: "Also, I want to have this recorded for the Admiralty Board's perusal."

"Understood." the female quarian replied with an implied nod, "I have commenced the recording, Admiral. Connection established in... three... two... one!"

Zaal smiled, "Thank you for sticking by my side, my friend." before the image was established and provided a window to what appeared to be quite a comely place. His attention, though, was focused entirely on the quintet of quarians gathered before him, and Tali'Zorah foremost among them.

"Admiral." Tali'Zorah offered a salute they all echoed, though none were stiffer and more proper than Kal'Reegar's, "Team Qwibbler reporting in,"

"Still think it's a stupid name..." Prazza'Tel whispered from the back.

Kefila'Kanna boggled, "Not in front of the Admiral, you fool."

"At ease." Zaal'Koris replied, "Far as the story goes, when my ship first received it the Captain at the time thought it was someone's idea of a joke."

"Probably was, Admiral." Kal'Reegar agreed.

"No doubt." he spoke wryly and raised his left arm so it was leveled with his chest and brought up the omni-tool, "Now let us get down to business. Tali'Zorah."

"Yes?"

"What is the status of your mission?"

"A complete success, Admiral." she replied with a thinly veiled smile, "We made contact without incident, and have since..." and paused, "Frankly I don't know where to start."

"You don't say." Zaal'Koris nodded as he checked the tertiary feed being received from each their implants. None of the logs dispatched indicated any tampering of their brains in any way, shape, or form. A good sign. Still, they needed more. "Let us see what your teammates have to say. Kal'Reegar, come forward."

Promptly did he and Tali'Zorah switch places.

"Marine, first I would like to commend you on a good job well done thus far."

Kal'Reegar saluted, "Thank you, Admiral."

"Now on the subject at hand. Do you believe peaceful coexistence with the dôji to be possible?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, Admiral."

"Do you have any particular comment to make on what you have seen?"

"Just one." Kal'Reegar solemnly said, "One of the places we visited over the course of our time here was an arcade. Within I found a gaming simulator that played off an event based on a past battle where the dôji waged war against the kurozu. What I saw during my participation in that simulation can't be easily explained, but without hyperbole the kurozu represent a far greater threat than the geth."

 _Given how the Relay 419 blockade's faring, I'm inclined to agree with that assessment..._ Zaal'Koris thought darkly, "How bad was it?"

"Without help from the dôji, any war with the kurozu will end very badly for us." Kal'Reegar's tone was grim, "As such this war can not be allowed to continue, Admiral."

"On that, we are in agreement." the Admiral nodded, "Thank you. Kefila'Kanna, would you step forward?"

The female came forward, "Yes, Admiral."

"What is your impression of Dôji Culture? Is it the genuine article, or is it all an act?"

"It is genuine, Admiral." Kefila'Kanna replied earnestly, almost dreamily, "By the ancestors, I swear it with all my heart."

"Anything in particular you would like to point out?"

"Yes, I do... or more precisely..." she brought up her omni-tool, her other hand flying over its haptic controls, "I would like to send to you a recording I made during our time at the concert we went to yesterday."

"Feel free to do so, Kefila'Kanna."

"Okay," she pressed a few more buttons, "Transfering."

"Receiving data." Veni'Koris reported.

"I'll watch it when we're finished here." Zaal'Koris told the engineer, "Let us move on. Prazza'Tel, come forward."

"Okay." the helmsman replied in the affirmative and took to the fore.

"What are your thoughts?"

"I... didn't trust them at first, and harbored much suspicion as to their intentions."

"Natural, given what we're dealing with, I suppose. What made you change your mind?"

"My understanding of a particular point in Tali'Zorah's testimony about her experience on Earth. I always doubted her claims about the scale of dôji society, that she just moved about in some small well-staged scene. That interpretation, suffice it to say, did not survive me seeing it for myself."

"And that's without including their... hospitality, and a particular incident..." he continued and faltered mid-sentence.

"You mean the one involving that dôji who went out of his way to have you dance with him during the concert?" Nao'Lani audibly smirked, greatly amused, "The very same who soon after tried to court you?"

"Sh-shut up..." Prazza'Tel stuttered embarrassedly, "O-of all the people in the universe... the first to dance and flirt with me's a synthetic. I am not sure how to feel about that."

"Will wonders ever cease?" Zaal'Koris could not quite restrain a cluck of laughter in a brief moment of unprofessional conduct, "Thank you, Prazza'Tel. Nao'Lani, come forth."

The group's elder did so.

"What's your impression of the Dôji so far?"

"In many ways they are much like organics." she started, weighing words carefully, "All of those we've interacted with have been the upstanding and friendly kind of folks who each have their own proclivities and interests. They have good work ethic, though there are lazy ones too. Some trust only the strength within themselves while others look to higher powers for guidance. I've seen parents who lovingly nurture their young, and kids that play in the streets, and much more. You get the point."

"I do." Zaal'Koris folded his arms, "Anything else you would like to say?"

"Yes, there is in fact one thing I would like to bring into the open." Nao'Lani glanced at her comrades before she in a solemn manner focused on him, "There's a prothean on this planet."

He blinked, stunned to the point only a simple question could leave his throat, "What?"

Without further prompt she brought up her omni-tool and through it displayed the image of a being unlike any he have ever seen, with striking eyes and clad in red armor. "The dôji found a prothean cryogenic facility here that was supposed to preserve a million protheans, only one of whom survived to the present day, who was himself close to death until a dôji intervened to save him."

Tali'Zorah raised a hand, "Alongside a batarian who by a coincidence happened to end up here some time ago. He didn't do much, though."

"Since then, the prothean been in that dôji's care." Nao'Lani continued like she hadn't heard, "But that's not all."

Zaal'Koris simply stared. This latest revelation had caught him flat-footed.

"Right now, the synthetics are combing the cryogenic facility for any trace of prothean DNA. Admiral, they're doing this with every intention to revive the protheans."

If true – and he had no reason to doubt her words – this would land a crushing blow to the war effort. The Admiral swallowed in a clear effort to straddle every bit of excitement. "For the first time... I am at a loss of words. If we put this into the open..."

"It would shatter preconceptions across the galaxy." Tali'Zorah agreed. "I can name at least one nation that would certainly turn on its heel."

 _Accurate, though the species in question does not have any heels..._ "I cannot stress enough how much you have turned this around. All I can think of now as to task assignment is find out how to shore up all of this information even further. Any ideas?"

"We have an idea to that end." she replied in the positive and looked away from, "Would you perhaps like to fill him in on that?"

A calm response followed, "I suppose there's no reason to decline." before its owner strode into view. Zaal'Koris watched in blatant interest as an elegant dôji took up position next to Tali'Zorah who to an extent towered over him. The synthetic turned to him, the expression on his surprisingly fair face being a decidedly stoic one. "On behalf of our nation I greet you, Admiral. My name is Pardonner, the Aspect who embody Patience."

To punctuate, the dôji bowed his head curtly, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is mine." he replied and struggled to maintain a respectable stance, "I am Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib, and while I am presently on house arrest and can not yet speak for all Quarians on this issue I offer you a fond salutation."

"It's something at least, and I am grateful." Pardonner tactfully replied, "As for what we intend: We are building a stealth frigate as we speak that will allow a small crew to sneak past the blockade with relative ease. I myself and your team will be among this crew, along with a choice number of minor dôji and two fellow Aspects. Service, Aspect of Generosity, and Désir, Aspect of Lust."

"Noveria?" Zaal'Koris inquired curiously.

"Noveria." the dôji confirmed with a momentary smile, "We have for too long been apart from Slow, Aspect of Diligence, who right now fight alongside the Geth for reasons we aim to ascertain. Depending on how it turns out, your cause may be further bolstered still."

"You're certain he went into this for a good reason?"

"Slow would never fight without one."

"Hm. You will hear no argument from me. I will require evidence to the contrary but won't object to the idea of Geth fighting for a righteous cause if that turns out to be the case."

"Very open-minded of you."

"Far as I and my supporters are concerned, Geth are people too. Still, most of our own people still cling to their old hatreds, so yes, evidence."

"It will be forthcoming soon as we're able to." Pardonner flatly supplied, "You have my word on that."

"Much appreciated." Zaal'Koris said, genuinely pleased, "Overall I find nothing to argue over, so I'll just say this to all of you: Go for it."

"Right." Tali'Zorah and the others responded, with Kal'Reegar adding 'Admiral' to his response.

He focused on the dôji, "If everything goes well, Aspect, I would love to exchange drinks with you someday."

Pardonner offered a small smile while he absently ran a claw along a lower portion of his apron, "Likewise, Admiral."

"This meeting's adjourned." Zaal'Koris said after a final nod, and the image closed, "Veni'Koris, did you get it all."

"Yes, Admiral."

"Good." he said to her and motioned to leave the chamber, now in a better mood than when he entered it. Now at last he could see light blossom at the end of the corridor.

* * *

 _Seven days and three hours later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Eden Prime; Tenjo.

Normandy SR-1.

Pardonner looked over the ship that was at last completed, its brilliant white hull respledent against the backdrop of space. As intended it was no less than a hundred feet long and shaped vaguely in the image of an broadheaded arrowhead, possessed two rather cramped decks, and came armed with a full GARDIAN array, kinetic barriers, a single underpowered spinal gun, and most importantly the recently gleamed IES stealth system that would hide it perfectly from enemy scanners and therefore allow their passage through the Council Blockade.

It's been rather quiet lately, but no doubt the aliens waited for those groundside on Nirvana to do more damage on its planetary grid.

But while the ship was fully ready for the mission it was built for, thirty minutes still remained before it would begin. All of it spent on the preparation of the crew itself. Fully ten minor dôji currently milled about within and familiarized themselves with it, a complement of four crew and six guards, while Tali and her team – once they exchanged farewells with Promina who really needed to head back down and continue with his own duties – stood on the side and watched his masterpiece, enraptured by the sight of it as only quarians could.

"It's a real thing of beauty, Pardonner." Service commented as he came to stand alongside him.

Pardonner hummed dryly, "From a functional viewpoint, or are you referring to its appearance?"

"Well, it certainly _is_ pleasing to the eye." the fellow Aspect giggled, "And for obvious reasons I haven't ridden on it yet, so I can not yet comment on its functions other than the fact that I am willing to put all of my trust on it performing magnificently."

"Oh, as will I~" Désir clucked amusedly as he sidled up between them, "More than anything, though, I am perfectly digging the cramped spaces."

"Ever the fetish fuel attendant..." Service commented.

Pardonner on his part sighed, annoyed, "Do keep your urges firmly checked, Désir. At the very least keep it cooped up for Slow's sake."

"Mm~ I do declare there's a certain appeal in that." the pink-haired dôji lusciously licked his lips at the thought of it, "A poor stranded long deprieved of an outlet. I imagine he might try to pounce me on sight." then added in a breath of undeniable interest, "And then there's the Geth."

"Ah yes..." he rolled his eyes. _This conversation certainly went someplace weird fast..._ "Can we please not talk about that now?"

"There's a time and place for everything." Service agreed, and added in a conciliatory manner; "Such as while we're underway and not in danger."

"... Suppose that'll do." Désir sighed, drooping in a theatric manner.

From there and on for the rest of their wait, their chatter turned to more pleasant matters. Small things that let time pass swiftly till finally the preparations were complete. Pardonner led those who remained outside into the ship.

"Pardonner," Tali started to ask as the airlock closed behind them, "where can we find the crew's quarter?"

"On the second deck." he pointed to the bridge's rear, "You can get there through the elevator over yonder, or the stairs if you don't wish to wait."

She accepted the directions given, "Stairs it is, then." and gestured for her team to follow, "Let's go."

Pardonner watched them go before he with his colleagues in tow approached the assigned Captain who saluted uniformly while the helmsman not much further away eased himself into position, sliding each limb into the ship's control sockets. "My lords." the tall and dark-skinned Captain said in a gravely tone, "Are you ready for departure?"

"Our mission is to find Slow and bring him home, Captain." Service told him, more serious than was his usual, "We couldn't be more ready."

"Release the clamps and make for the Maginot Line at best speed, Captain." Pardonner weighed in firmly, "Sooner the better."

"At once, my lords." the Captain bowed and, with no small amount of haste took his seat and gave the appropriate orders to the helmsman who was already at it.

With no task in need for them to undertake, the Aspects turned to one another. "Going to be a long six hours." Désir lamented softly, arms raised so the palms of his gauntlets could be brought together and against the back of his head, "What to do~"

"Speed chess?" Service suggested.

"Sure." Pardonner accepted.

Désir tutted, "At least have some risk involved. It'd be boring otherwise."

He considered the matter, "The one who lose pays for the reunion feast when we get back."

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but fine. You're on."

Having come to an agreement, they moved on to the crew's quarter. All the while unaware that a similar match was being played elsewhere in the system, and was close to escalating.

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; _Kurma-Class_ Corvette "Camelot"

"Fight me." Vice demanded, an eye of his twitching in irritation.

Ultimo was just about to capture his opposite number's King with a Pawn when that suddenly came up. "Why?" he raised a brow and asked.

"I'm bored as hell of this game." the fellow Grand Aspect growled, "We haven't fought in a while." and directed an inquisitive claw at him, "Can you see where I'm going with this?"

He did. It truly has been a while. Still, frankly, he was more in the mood for another match. But with Vice only so far from losing his temper and Milieu being interested in no more than drinking up the broth that remained of the soup flown in from Eden Prime, there was little choice in the matter.

Ultimo let a sigh escape his lips, "I suppose a sparring session won't hurt." and created a spatial ball for Vice to put his claws on before he transferred himself onto Nirvana's frigid surface, right next to where his opposite number promptly popped up. "Mind if we set up some ground rules?"

"Naw, we're good!" Vice sneered as he swung a fist already halfway through a transformation, shaping it into a serrated blade three times taller than himself, its base shaped like the head of a turtle; "Karakuri Henge: Turtle Saw!"

He was fast, but Ultimo was faster still. With a slight use of his Noh, he in an instant initiated and completed a transformation of his own that appeared as a crane's head, its beak an overlong yet elegant blade, and came about, clashed with Vice blade to blade, "Karakuri Henge: Crane Sword."

The shock wave that resulted from this collision of martial power had an immediate effect on their surroundings as nearby hills were blown away.

For a few seconds he maintained this position before he and Vice parted, the latter of whom already swung about, brought the side of his turtle saw into and through the earth. A small grunt escaped the green-clad dôji, but his smirk was a savage one as he caught onto something and completed the motion.

Ultimo leaped aside as the ground underneath his feet was raised, just before it exploded into an upward deluge of dirt, ice, and a boulder that must have weighed thirty tons at least, which would travel a further hundred feet or so before gravity would inevitably overcome it. Ultimo paid no further attention to it after that estimation and charged at Vice who withdrew his saw blade to parry the incoming blow.

But just as they were just a step from impact, the boulder landed with a loud... painfully egregious...

 _Bonk!_

Ultimo and Vice both stopped at this sound, and repeated as one, "Bonk?"

* * *

 _Location:_ H-1 System; H-1-4; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Unflinching Pace"

When a boulder landed on his installation in the most random coincidence Corinthus had ever seen, serving as a punctuation to an utterly unbelievable turn of events that had just cropped out of nowhere, he had only one comment to make, and was so stunned in so doing that he could not even marvel at how calm and composed it was:

"Oh crap."

* * *

 **Author notes:** While the Reapers aren't present in this series, I intended fully from the start to have the Kurozu come out with Reaper-like ships eventually. On top of that, we got here this fic's version of the Normandy, likely complete with a few cameos in dôji form. In other news, much progress has been made, and Noveria's up... with all that entails. In other other news, I suck at chapter names.

 _Ecx_ : Thank you!

 _hornofdesolation_ : Thank you!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Belated Reunion**

* * *

 _Location:_ H-1 System; H-1-4; Vorastunn-Class Drop Base "Unflinching Pace"

How did this happen?

Whenever an unexpected problem came about, General Corinthus given his age and experience was well within his ability to come up with a response, a way to handle it. Not this time, for what just took place was completely unprecedented. Never has there been a situation in ground operations where two fleet-class threats would suddenly materialize out of nowhere and proceed to fight each other with giant swords, then proceed to unintentionally discover nearby enemy forces through the casual flinging of thirty-ton boulders.

He was rendered so dumbstruck that it seemed as though all the panicked noise around him had either dulled from existence or ceased altogether. Even Nyreen's usually strong strong voice sounded distant as she yelled for the whole crew to arm themselves and prepare to repel imminent boarders, for all the good that would do.

"We have a breach!" Gravalax yelled after a shudder ran through their vorastunn.

Nyreen did not hesitate, "Have all available troops engage them. General," she turned to him, arms folded behind her back, "you have to make a decision."

As if he needed a reminder. Corinthus withheld a sigh, "We will commence the self-destruct sequence at once. Lieutenant, with me."

She stoically nodded, in full acceptance of what needed to be done, "Acknowledged, sir."

"We're not slowing them down at all." Gravalax grimly announced, "Far as I can tell… all soldiers present are being sent flying, pulled in, then sent flying again."

Corinthus accepted this darkly, and reached out to physically access the self-destruct mechanism.

"It's been an honor to serve with you, sir." Nyreen supplied.

The old General smiled, "The honor's mine."

With a twist the lever was exposed, and he reached out to twist it… only to see the cramped CIC suddenly, in the merest blink of an eye, turn into a spacious but incredibly crowded chamber. An utterly abrupt and absurd change of scenery that left him baffled and frozen in place, unable to comprehend what just happened. Hundreds of turians and a few elcor surrounded him, and they too balked in utter confusion.

All of whom he quickly recognized as members of his crew.

Unable to believe this change he reasoned it was a trick and stretched his arm out experimentally to the self-destruct mechanism that was supposed to be no more than a couple inches from his talons. Its continued absence forced Corinthus to conclude this was no illusion.

"General!" he heard Nyreen call out as she pushed through the disorganized crowd, "General, are you alright?"

Corinthus retracted the arm and coughed as he settled into a dignified posture. "I am quite alright, Kabalim Kandros." he said, "What just happened?"

"Frankly speaking I have no idea, General. I woke just a moment ago."

"We all did it would seem." he muttered darkly while the surrounding confusion continued, the only ones to maintain composure being a few officers who followed Nyreen and stood with her. "They knocked out then woke us all at once like someone hit a switch. Does anyone who fought in the garage see anything off?"

Lieutenant Zurcta nervously stepped forward, "Sir, my unit was present when the dôji forced their way in. I didn't see anything unusual at first, aside from how one-sided it was though we outnumbered them greatly, but just before I woke up here… I spotted that one of them, the Jailer, paused to…" she hesitated, "pat the floor."

"Pat the floor?" Corinthus growled, completely deadpan.

"Y-yes, General."

Nyreen grimaced, "Good to know, but it explains so very little."

"That most certainly does not." he grumbled, and gave himself over to contemplation until a real racket, the sound of a metal surface being struck hard by something massive. It did not even take him a moment to understand what was up as he look another look at their surroundings. Given its size and the number of people it most certainly was not built to accommodate, it's even more cramped than the vorastunn _._

 _C_ _hances are, those sounds are of panicked elcor trying to get out..._

Without a shred of doubt he headed toward the source of this commotion, and found at the far side of all the soldiers who barely could clear a path for him their trio of surviving elcor who – just as he thought they would – tried to ram their way through a featureless cargo door.

And they had made good progress as much of it was already quite bent and crumpled. A few more blows would probably see it forced agape in one manner or another. That should be a good thing, but then what? Without weapons and facing an unknown number of high-stat synthetics, their options beside dying as bravely or foolishly as possible are abysmally limited.

Even if they survived and got out, or took over the ship, they got nowhere to go and lacked supplies.

"Sir, they almost got the door open." Nyreen who had followed him remarked.

He snorted rhetorically, voice grimly determined, "All so we can go out in a blaze of glory..."

"A rather useless act if you ask me." someone suddenly drawled, before the door was ripped open lengthwise like it was made of paper, "Utterly pointless, even."

What arose from the shadows was a dôji who in manner of clothing was colored a deep blue, its skin pale and mane a jet black. Its eyes burned a bright pink, same with the visors that surrounded them. Like most dôji it was small in stature, and was thus utterly dwarfed by the angry elcor who tried immediately to make full use of this opening to get out. Corinthus would never have voluntarily stood in the way of angry elcor, but the tired-looking synthetic just glared up at them in resignation before it raised a gauntlet that amounted to a really long spike, devoid of manipulators.

"Calm down you lot." it growled and slapped the lead elcor hard enough on the head to nearly smash it into the floor. A show of strength that made the other two stop. Each of them growled petulantly, but complied. "Good enough." the dôji sighed and withdrew the arm, "Whoever leads you all, step forward."

For a moment all was silent.

"Come on over, you." it proceeded to glance up at him.

"And how do you know that?"

"My Noh is heart reading." the dôji informed like that explained everything, "While your troops loyally kept silent, several among them prepared to put themselves between you and me. Now don't waste further time."

"To torture me." Corinthus stated exactly what he thought rather than dwell on what he just heard for fear that his mind would break in the attempt to process what sounded like something fantastical.

"Wrong." it drawled in an exasperated manner, "I'm just here to tell you about what just happened, and what will happen next. Don't waste further time and come along."

Corinthus nodded grimly and approached it.

"General?" Nyreen questioned, her nerves audibly strung tightly, readied for action.

"Hold the fort, Kabalim Kandros. If I don't come back, you're in charge." Corinthus said firmly, and without waiting for an answer came up to the synthetic who then led him out of the chamber, its broken door blocked by a trio of dôji who promptly took up position and settled into a halfway threatening posture. No one would be allowed to leave while they remained. As for him, he followed the ultramarine dôji until they crossed into a small room with a single table – on which it promptly seated itself.

"Now, where to begin." it grumbled absently while staring at him who chose to stay upright not far from the door, "This might seem hard to take in, but it's been four hours since your capture. Mostly due to the time required for a-"

"Four hours?" Corinthus let out after a shake of his head in disbelief, "It was less than an instant for us."

"Because the Grand Aspect, Ultimo, stopped your time." the slender synthetic moved on to nonchalantly explain, "That's why. Moving on: On the grounds of trespass and the endangerment of our citizenry you and yours have been arrested and are now prisoners of war. In forty minutes we will arrive at a holding facility where you will stay for the war's duration. Consequently we expect you to keep your crew well-behaved, and to follow all guidelines and directions given."

It continued, "Comply with these conditions, and nothing bad will happen."

"… And what happens if we don't?"

"Confinement in isolation and bad food, for example."

Corinthus blinked, "That's it?"

"Ultimo's adverse to killing, especially if capture is a viable option." it explained dryly, "But of course, if your soldiers turn out uncooperative, attempt to escape, or become violent... the handlers on site will respond however roughly they deem appropriate."

"Prisoners who behave will be treated well, have plenty space to move around, and three meals a day – morning, midday, and evening. There will be a curfew in place, but well within common levels of tolerance."

Honestly, thus far, Corinthus found not a detail to complain about beside this whole ordeal to begin with. Trapped like rodents in a box while an existential war was waged. "A large portion of me find those terms agreeable, but an equally sizable part question whether it sound too good to be true."

"Oh we've heard all sorts of stuff from many of our prisoners about that, the most popular of which is the supposition that we're gonna put them in cook pots sooner or later." it looked halfway amused, "In any case, I've said my part. Do you accept these terms?"

He subdued a sigh, "… I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"How nice of you to understand that." the synthetic eased itself off the table and strode past him without even a look, "I'll have you led back to the others so you can get things in order."

Corinthus turned just in time to see it wave over a dôji who proceeded to return him to the cargo hold where his crew waited anxiously before it wordlessly took up position alongside those already present – evidently void of curiosity about their prisoners. As such the first to voice up was Nyreen.

"General." she started, glad to see him return unharmed, "How did it go?"

And he, for a reply, told her of what went down.

Nyreen understandably adopted an expression of barely veiled suspicion, "It sounds too good to be true, General. I am almost certain it's a trap in the waiting."

"So do I, but our options are limited. All we have are numbers, a few angry elcor, and the biotics of your Cabal. We also have no supplies, and nowhere to go." Corinthus summarized to his second, "We will comply for now, and see what lies ahead. But on the first sign of trouble, you have my permission to raise a ruckus."

She obviously did not like the idea of it, but she nodded and saluted her compliance nonetheless, "As you say, General."

Corinthus gave a crisp nod and while she moved on to dole out orders to the rest, he looked to the diminutive dôji guards who in return watched them evenly.

* * *

 _Two hours later…_

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Normandy SR-1.

"I can't believe this..." Nao groaned as she came out of the elevator, almost petulant in her countenance. "The engine room's so quiet I can't even tell if we're moving."

"Welcome, five hours after I noticed the same thing right here." Prazza jibed while the elder approached and sat herself at their table.

Nao snorted, "Snippy kid."

"Don't you start anything." Tali ground out, mentally fatigued for all her effort to put herself at ease. The _Normandy_ was a masterpiece of engineering in its sleekness and sophistication… but it has one single downside to its name from a quarian point of view: The ship itself barely made a single sound. In the Migrant Fleet the very last thing one wanted to hear was silence, as it implied that a mechanism or part was broken.

And what dôji they shared this deck with did not help much to alleviate. There was a sense of tension in the air about them, each of them alert, ready to step to, like something was about to happen. Tali wondered why till it occurred to her to wonder instead about the number of com dôji aboard. She knew of at least one who serve among the five who are needed to run the ship. Maybe there's one more among the rest who are little more than bodyguards.

Or they're tense because the Aspects headed up a short while ago… which could only mean they are close to the relay.

With a certain interest kindled, Tali rose from her seat and made for the bridge that was mostly empty outside of the eight clustered at the front. Pardonner, Désir and Service stood the nearest, looking over the bridge crew, most of whom assisted the helmsman who in turn focused on their heading, his body partially submerged into what was probably the most alien control system she has ever seen, controlling the ship with all four limbs like it's an extension of his body.

It appeared to do wonders as while the helmsman went at it with some alacrity, he easily led them through the massive ship graveyard cluttered around the local relay. That they have not heard even the sound of debris scraping against the hull was proof enough of his skill.

Tali did nothing to interrupt as she walked in closer.

"Approaching the relay now, my lords." the tanned-skinned Captain reported, "We'll be in position for transfer within ten seconds."

"Proceed." Pardonner told him curtly. "Activate the IES."

"Understood." he responded as he ran a gauntlet over the haptic console to his left. A quick succession of keys that concluded with an audible 'beep', "Stealth system active, my lord. Moreau, take us through."

Tali came to a stop just a few feet from the Aspects who remained distinctly preoccupied, and watched as the helmsman brought them through the mass-less 'corridor' prepared by the relay's prompt reaction to their approach without further delay. She half-expected to see a wall of guns on the other side, and had a mental image to match until they arrived and saw nothing more than empty space. It felt somehow anti-climatic to say the least, though she knew better. Chances are; thousands of scans are likely ongoing from across the system in attempt to target whatever just came through.

"No sign of any nearby squadrons." Désir muttered as they focused on the just provided haptic map of the system, noting the absence of alien forces within at least ten thousand kilometers of their present position, "Did not the last probe through say-"

"We all know what the report said." Pardonner cut him off, "But it doesn't matter if the usual guard force's absent. Not when we have four thousand heat signatures locked in concentric formations across the remainder of the system."

"Fewer than before in any case." Service followed up as he peered more closely, "What we see here are a few thousand short of the usual, is it not? Do you think something has happened, or have we caught a lucky break?"

The Aspect of Patience groaned as he considered the questions, "I'd like for it to be the latter, but I'm afraid it's likely the former..."

"Do you think the kurozu have effected some kind of breakthrough?" Désir hummed as he brushed a claw through his curly pink hair.

Service turned a little pale, "I do certainly hope not. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that."

"Except the kurozu themselves." the Aspect of Lust remarked, "Still, don't we have someplace to be? Is the IES working?"

"We haven't been shot at yet, every last frigate's closing in – a third of their number through tactical jump." Pardonner said, analyzing the map closely as new information came to light, "Atop of that, it seems the heavy warships are breaking up."

"They're trying to cage us in..." Service followed up softly – the supposition completely spot-on far as Tali was concerned – and smiled at his colleague, "Looks like the IES does work. Yet another success to your list of accomplishment, my friend."

"… Thanks, but frankly the congratulations can wait till we're out of danger." Pardonner sternly said before Désir could add his own and directed a wide open palm to the map, "Tali, which mass relay must we take?"

Tali, surprised at being so suddenly addressed, strode to join the Aspects she physically towered over and gazed closely at the map. Ignoring the enormous number of heat signatures she directed an index finger to the relevant relay. "Between here and Noveria... there should be three – starting with this one."

"Thank you, Tali." he said and marked the relay in question with the flick of a claw, "Helmsman Moreau, make for this relay with best speed. Avoid all enemy contact along the way."

"Going at it, my lord." Moreau answered as he had the ship accelerate, "Could get bumpy, though."

He eyed the helmsman sternly, "Between discovery and prompt destruction by four thousand guns, I believe we are far past caring whether the ride's a bumpy one, helmsman."

"Point taken."

What followed was easily one of the most harrowing and nerve-wracking events in her experience, and in many ways she did considered it far worse than the ordeal she and her crew had to go through during their time on the _Rokuran_. At least back then there was a clear safe place to head toward. Here she did not even have control, and could only trust in the helmsman's ability and sheer luck as the next couple of hours dragged by at a snail's pace, and watch the map as all of the heat signatures became ever more dispersed in the attempts to locate the _Normandy_ , and inflicted while at it more close calls than she dared to recall. One particularly harrowing instance was that of an enemy frigate that through wild coincidence finished another wave of those tactical jumps and appeared almost within a thousand kilometers of the _Normandy_.

Still, against all odds, they remained undiscovered and continued to make headway.

Unfortunately it was only a matter of time till Tali noticed another particular issue to worry about as the ambient heat within the ship grew. It was relatively cool at the start, but has since they entered this system risen to fifteen degrees.

"Is the ship supposed to get this hot?" Tali asked uneasily at last when the temperature jumped to sixteen.

"Not really." Pardonner muttered as he looked around the bridge, his blue eyes dilating slightly, "To begin with the IES conceal us by sealing away all of the heat we accumulate over the course of its activity. This heat-buildup is par for the course."

Tali grimaced, chilled by the knowledge that the _Normandy_ could easily become a death trap for organics given enough time, "I see..."

"Just bear with it for now." he reassured her, "It won't be long."

"Provided that nothing big gets in our way we should be out of here within the next twenty minutes." Désir muttered as he toggled the map and zoomed in on the relay they headed toward, "Too bad there just so happen to be a huge thing waiting for us."

Pardonner joined him in a couple of strides, "A sphere formation surrounding the relay. Not bad far as coverage goes, but we should still be able to slip through given enough speed."

"I can see a few gaps in it larger than the others. Five in total..." Service counted as he too joined in, scratching his left cheek in thought, "Deliberate ones I imagine."

"How did you arrive at that conclusion?" the Captain asked curiously.

"Most of the ships around each gap are salarian in make. Chances are they have the most powerful sensor arrays."

"Good call." Pardonner murmured in appraisal, "Mark the gaps so Moreau knows to avoid them."

Service did so, and painted each of the particular gaps in red.

Moreau arced his back as if in lieu of flexing his digits, "So I can go anywhere else?"

"Yes, and make it quick."

They made it sound so easy, Tali thought. 'Anywhere else' in this case meant anywhere the gap between ships amounted to less than thirty-five kilometers – which was minuscule in terms of astronomic measurements. Even for a small ship such as the Normandy, to squeeze through that at full speed would be little different from aiming a thread through the eye of a needle with no prior practice. Like in the last few hours Tali could do nothing but watch and hope the Aspects' confidence in their choice of helmsman was well placed.

She said nothing for much of the remaining time, and observed the crew as they made corrections and generally supported Moreau as much as possibility allowed while on the map, now zoomed in to feature mainly the massive pincushion – which became more threatening with every passing moment – they needed to get through

After a final tweak on their course that leveled them with the relay itself, Moreau initiated the breakthrough. Tali once again found herself expecting the worst to happen, that all of the cruisers – predominantly Arakan and Tevura – around them would suddenly detect and turn on the comparatively puny _Normandy_. Instead she was once again struck by how anti-climatic the experience was as they penetrated the bubble in a heartbeat, with not even a twitch from the enemy until the relay reached out to them.

"Almost..." Moreau called out, and affected their transit in a burst of element zero-induced light that dimmed as they arrived. "We're through, my lords."

"Good job, Moreau, everyone." Pardonner said, "Tali, the next relay."

"This one." she quickly pointed out.

"Captain, disengage the IES. Moreau, commence jump to that location."

Both replied in the affirmative.

"We should find a place to discharge at before we reach Noveria." Service suggested, "There's a blockade round it too, yes?"

"There's a few planets I can name along the route usable for that purpose, but speaking of Noveria:" Tali started as a thought occurred to her, "How do you plan to find the geth in any reasonable time?"

Désir snorted, his gauntlets placed on his hips, "By calling them, of course."

"Just by doing that?"

"I see no reason for them not to respond."

"In any case," Pardonner said as he strode over to her in small steps, his expression one of concern, "I suggest you go and rest. Getting to that relay will take close to sixteen hours, and you're clearly exhausted."

"Huh?" Désir huffed in disbelief, "How can you be tired already? We've barely started."

"It's not just me. We're all of us mentally exhausted." Tali replied more crassly than intended, "The reason why is the lack of ambient noise, something wholly alien to our own ships. Makes us think the _Normandy_ 's going to break at any moment."

Pardonner appeared to ponder this, a claw of his applied to his chin, "So that's why… There's little we can actually do about the lack of sound, but at the very least I can help you guys sleep – that is, if you want me to."

 _Oh, you wouldn't believe how good that sounds…_ "I doubt even Prazza would object to your offer at this point."

"Alright. Go back and inform the others, I'll be with you soon."

"Thanks."

It was probably not a sublime solution to their dilemma, but ultimately it and additional applications in-between meals greatly helped her and her fellow quarians to get used to living on the _Normandy_ , especially considering the huge lack of things to do. Being largely unneeded when it came to maintenance, they did not have much to do other than to socialize, eat, and sleep. The sole exception being when Tali was called up to give them directions.

Three days passed like this, swiftly even, except they after the second day no longer needed Pardonner's help. Tali now slept much easier, and handled better the horrid lack of ambient noise. If there was one point of complaint, it revolved around their state of idleness. A relative non-issue that evaporated when an announcement was finally made as Désir graced them with his rather flamboyant presence.

"Everyone!" the Aspect hollered – his voice lacking the sultriness it usually contained – not just to the quarians but also to the small cadre they shared this place with, "We'll be coming up on Noveria in an hour from now. Please make the appropriate preparations for whatever might happen over the course of our stay."

"All of you know what's at stake. What we do here is for the sake of ending the war between us and the Council, and bringing back a precious friend and Aspect who has been away from us for too long."

"Peace, and Slow. Let's bring them home."

Every minor dôji in attendance thrust their fists into the air and shouted approvingly before they moved. A few headed up to the bridge while the rest headed down. Désir did not look at any of them and approached Tali, "You and that darling of yours can come with us when we head out to meet with Slow. All the rest of you, lend your strength to this ship's defense."

"… Who did you just call a 'darling'?" Kal asked confusedly.

"You, wonder-boy." Désir folded his arms and smirked, his usual playfulness back in full force, before he made a turn and walked away with a noticeable swagger in his steps, "Toodles~"

"Hah." Prazza started to laugh, but stopped when Kal shot him a glare that could have pierced through a dreadnought's thick hull.

Tali chose not to dwell on what just happened, "If you have time to bicker, you have time to check your equipment and make sure everything's up to snuff. Hop to it."

"I thought all of us would come along." Kefila pouted as she stood.

"Look at it this way: We're going to see a lot of geth down there. If they shoot at us, two will be easier to protect than five."

"My thoughts exactly." Nao muttered in agreement, "Now come on you lot. Those weapons won't check themselves!"

Tali watched them go for a moment as she took in her own words, and what they meant in full before she in disgust shuddered and hurriedly stood to follow her comrades.

* * *

 _One hour and a half later…_

 _Location_ : Noveria; Hollows; near Peak 17.

"Just a little more..."

When Slow first saved the Rachni, he was not aware they would become so useful an addition to their efforts. Natural tunnelers to the last, the thousands of minuscule Rachni workers that now scurried about across the front made excellent excavators, and peeled away every ice and rock in their way with astonishing efficiency. And the work they did only accelerated as the Queen made more.

Slow stood close to one such concentration of green critters as he looked over the state of their progress on his pair of omni-tools. At present they have advanced to a point they are now underneath Peak 17's outer defensive perimeter. And thanks to the Rachni they have two dozen chambers such as this that collectively covered large portions of said perimeter.

A question had been whether to dig right into the station's interior, but he did not want to risk the escape of any kurozu or their alien collaborators. This meant they needed to start outside, and work their way from the top and down.

Once preparations are finished, a final massing of forces would be completed before they'll collapse sections of the surface into the tunnels with strategically placed explosives. The geth would consequently move out through these gaps, while the Rachni tunnel their way out from everywhere else they can.

This should be enough to rout Peak 17's external force, and allow them to move in before the enemy can react.

Overall, Slow felt confident about their chances of success.

"Aspect Slow."

He blinked and lowered his arms as he turned to Legion, "What's up?"

"We have received a transmission of unknown origin that request an audience."

"Unknown origin." Slow parroted in thought, "Did that message come with any sort of name?"

"Yes. Designation: 'Normandy SR-1'." it paused briefly, its sole optic zoomed out, "Our data-banks do not recognize the term."

"I do… it's a region back on Earth that has a somewhat bloodied history to its name." Slow looked up searchingly, "Only kurozu and dôji would know that name."

"Your orders?"

"Have all secure surface scout units dispatch a short-distance communique and request as to their means of transport and guide them to an appropriately shielded location. I'll meet them there."

"We recommend an escort be deployed."

"A few sturdy units, please. Nothing excessive. If it's a trap I would prefer our potential losses to be kept at an absolute minimum."

"Acknowledged. Message dispatched." Legion informed flatly, then clicked, "Target identified as a Frigate. Location for landing selected. Coordinates have been furthered to your left-hand omni-tool."

Slow checked the omni-tool in question and nodded appreciably. "Good. We'd best not keep our about-to-be guests waiting."

"Understood. Query: What if they are dôji?"

"Aside from hugging the first one I see, welcoming them, and convince them to lend a hand?" he gave it a shrug and an amused look before he moved on past it, eager to potentially see familiar faces again, "What else do you think I'll do?"

* * *

 _Thirty-three minutes later…_

 _Location_ : Noveria.

"A ravine?"

When they received a location to set down, Pardonner thought it'd be someplace more secluded. Still, it was not like there was a plethora of suitable places about.

"It ain't exactly a port of call, but what needs must." Service said as they watched the image they got of it, not bothered by how it span as Moreau turned the Normandy in order to fit into that narrow space. "Helmsman, take us down."

Moreau hummed in fixed concentration, "Right, my lord."

While it appeared deep, it took only a few moments for their ship to reach the bottom where it was set down upon uneven ground where it slightly lurched in place till an adjustment of the landing gear was carried out.

"We're down." the Captain sighed, "Opening hangar door. It won't take long for our guards to set up the wards."

"Deactivate the IES once they're up and running." Pardonner instructed evenly, and pointed to the side, "Open the airlock."

"Aye, my lord."

Pardonner turned to the rest of his team while the first partition of the airlock popped open, "All ready?"

"More than ready." Service smiled.

Désir applied palms to the back of his head, "Of course~"

"We're ready." Tali replied, both she and Kal who stood behind her heavily armed. Hardly suitable for the meeting ahead, but with their fear of the Geth he supposed leniency was in order.

"Let's go, then." Pardonner told them without a boast and passed through the airlock once it finished opening, and paused as he for the first time in two centuries set foot in snow and felt it crunch underneath his foot. Still, he recovered swiftly and continued on his way.

"Such pristine snow." Service whispered and from the sound of it scooped up a large amount of snow into his arms and compressed it into a ball. "How long has it been since we last saw its like."

He nodded sadly, "I dare not count that many years."

"Who cares?" Désir shrugged, seeming largely unaffected by the scenery, "It's just a pile of frozen water."

Service responded by tossing the newly made snowball at the pink-haired colleague who caught it deftly. "Now a snowball fight, on the other hand." Désir added to his statement with a sagely nod, and added a stone he plucked from a spot of protruding rock to the snowball, "I like."

Pardonner could practically feel the quarians shake their heads at how they can engage in such small talk considering what they're soon to be up against. "By the way, when are they supposed to come see us?" Tali wondered suddenly.

He raised a claw on his way to answer; "Just about here… a while from now."

* * *

 _An hour later…_

Excitement bubbled from within Slow's chest as he neared his destination, which coincidentally just happened to be a corner of the hollows that narrowed down the further one moved into it. A development the geth did not foresee when they decided to supply him with an escort made up of a full quintet of Primes – heavy platforms that stood more than three times taller than he did.

The result was a slow going, and a not insignificant amount of ruckus.

All that kept them subtle was a tactical cloak that rendered them invisible.

Slow had also been supplied with one, though it's a more literal version made up of an actual cloak that covered his whole body – including his face. Another security precaution in case what lay in wait for them was an actual trap.

In any case they would learn the truth of it in a moment as he spied a crack in the wall up ahead, and through it emerged into the narrow ravine Legion designated as the landing zone at long last, and found a stretch of it filled by a sleek and beautiful ship that probably would have shone if not for the carpet of snow that has come to cover it.

That was at least what he thought till movement made his attention wander onto a group that stood in the open, and felt his eyes widen.

No less than three dôji stood some thirty feet distant and conversed idly with one another, and fellow Aspects at that! Joy filled him at the sight of Pardonner, stoic as ever, the energetic Service, and the luscious Désir whose mere appearance made the aforementioned joy be quickly joined by an unadulterated wave of lust he was forced to suppress.

There also happened to be a pair of aliens beside them, but Slow right now had only eyes for those of his own kind who he stared at as if they would vanish and be replaced by kurozu if he blinked even once.

For a tranquil moment they remained like that, until the first Prime emerged and crunched the snow under its heavy footsteps. Désir arced an eyebrow, instantly alerted, at the massive footprints it produced.

"Who goes there?" barked one of the aliens and raised his rifle.

"Lower your weapon, Kal." Pardonner demanded, "If they came to fight, they'd already have opened fire."

"Level-headed as always, my old friend..." Slow praised soon as the last word left those lips, breaking the silence on his part as he strode forward and motioned to strip from himself the cloak, "It's good to see you."

* * *

"Ma'am?"

"Relax." Tali said with forced calm as she placed a hand on Kal's weapon against every instinct that screamed for her to take up her own gun and shoot. Not only was the machine implied to be massive, they also came equipped with tactical cloaks. She was uneasy about this development to say the least.

Until the friendly-sounding speaker showed himself, that is.

Silently, anxiously even, Tali watched as a dark-robed and blue-maned dôji emerged from a tactical cloak that was promptly tossed to a seemingly random spot behind him where it wound up suspended above the snowy ground by what could only by the arm of a geth. Yet in spite of how this confirmed the size of those platforms, she was instead fixated on the dôji who to her eyes looked breathtakingly beautiful against the pure white backdrop.

Tali almost jumped next when Service, his expression full of longing, practically dashed past her and in a pounce embraced the dôji who responded in kind - happy that this day has finally come.

"You're safe… what a relief." Service whimpered as he buried his face into Slow's left shoulder. "When you went missing… we were so worried."

"Sorry about that." Slow whispered for a reply and tightened the hug, "Lots of stuff happened. I was captured and stuff…"

"What about those who went with you?"

He closed his eyes, "Dead…"

Service shuddered, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Couldn't protect them. Not from the kurozu who assailed us… nor could I protect them from the aliens who dissected them alive for study."

Tali felt outrage swell up in her head at that, but kept silent as the conversation continued.

"How did you escape, Slow?"

"The geth came, they saved us – me and a salarian I befriended back in that base."

"So that's why you're with them?" Pardonner spoke up as he and Désir approached and came to flank the pair still locked in warm embrace, "But… why did they help you?"

Slow let go and he and Service parted, "The geth wanted to establish contact with our people, and found me the most easy to access."

"I see."

"And they will have it." Désir said, "For going out of their way to aid one of our own the Grand Aspects would be more than happy to see them."

"So all the fighting that has been going on here..." Service mused, "Was it all attempts to recapture you?"

"Oh, they would really like to see me recaptured… but that's not it." Slow responded solemnly.

The other three Aspects exchanged glances, "What do you mean?"

"We haven't fought purely for my protection. There's a facility here that must be destroyed."

"If it's to avenge your subordinates I would like for you to reconsider." Pardonner pressed softly, "We're in the middle of an effort to bring this war to a peaceful conclusion. An act of such aggression could unravel it."

Slow shook his head, "It's not that. There is much more to this than that!"

The confusion was rife. "What is it then that have made you so determined to break it?" Désir asked in barely veiled annoyance, "Speak clearly."

"It's a kurozu factory in the making, Désir." Slow said bluntly.

Tali recoiled immediately in horror at the mention, her mind awash in flashbacks.

"You mean to say the kurozu have a presence here?!" Pardonner almost shouted, "You're sure?"

"Entirely."

"How?"

"It was enabled by the same aliens who captured me, who have since acted as collaborators."

"And how, if I may ask, have these collaborators managed to keep such a thing secret?"

"Because their leader is General Desolas himself."

At this, Tali briefly joined, "Desolas, you mean the one who lead this front against the geth?"

"Yep, and because of him, the galaxy thinks the place's developing countermeasures against the geth. I have no idea what he hopes to gain from this… but if the facility's destroyed it won't matter." Slow said stolidly, "Therefore, a day from now, we intend to launch an all-out assault on the facility."

"And what kind of forces do you have at your disposal?" Pardonner requested thoughtfully.

"Six thousand geth platforms, and an unspecified number of Rachni."

"Rachni?" Tali blurted out in confusion, "How can you have any number of Rachni at all? They're extinct!"

"Not anymore. A facility here brought them back to life, and proceeded to lose control of them. They lived there till a Deus ex Machina tried to wipe them out… and probably would have if I had not been present to stop it."

"You've been busy." Désir appraised over the sound Tali suspected came from her own incredulity.

"In return, the Rachni Queen has pledged her growing army to aid in the destruction of the kurozu-infested facility." Slow nodded slowly, "And while I have utmost confidence in our ability to carry that out, I would greatly appreciate your help."

For a trice there was no sound except the howling wind. Pardonner broke it succinctly, "You need not even ask. If the kurozu are here in strength… we can't just leave them alone."

"Thank you. My salarian friend is out there to bring the truth of that facility to light, but I'm not sure how that's going at present."

"Probably going through the same we did." Tali grunted in distaste.

Slow arced a brow. "Long story." Service told him, smiling, "Let us focus on the here and now."

"Indeed." Désir emitted an actual growl, his claws twitching. "Slow, count us in."

"Thank you guys, truly." the blue-maned dôji smiled in deep gratitude.

And without further ado they went on about what plans of action was on the table. As for Tali, all she wanted was to find a place to sit down. Instead of allowing her to, Kal begged the question: "Are you fine with this, ma'am?"

"I don't want to be near the geth any more than the next person," Tali sighed with a trace of frustration at the universe testing her like this, "but if there are kurozu here… they must be dealt with and soon, no matter the means."

* * *

 **Author notes:** Had hoped I'd be able to start the battle soon to come in this chapter, but that will have to wait till the next one.

 _hornofdesolation_ : Thank you. Edited so it's more comprehensive.

 _Mkoll312_ : Thank you. Was fun to write.

 _Alfonse08_ : I had a feeling you'd come out of the woodwork to ask that question. That said, it would be a spoiler to say anything on that subject.

 _Ecx_ : Glad you're enjoying the story, and thank you.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Assault on Peak 17,** **Part One**

* * *

 _The next day..._

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

Nothing was quite like a private session where politicians from all over the galaxy met to deliberate on how to convey what's currently going on in regards to the respective war fronts without inviting chaos and unease amongst the populace. A task all the more important now given how the battles on the kurozu front have intensified to such an extent that a sizable transfer of forces from the dôji front was deemed necessary – which by extension debilitated General Victus' ability to act in support of those who presently fought a daring ground war in the dôji-occupied H-1 System.

Thankfully, assurances doled out by the heads of every military meant the situation was well within the realm of salvageability.

So after five hours of near-nonstop debate, they stood on the cusp of a grim yet ultimately optimistic message that would after the conclusion of this meeting be conveyed. All that remained was an update. Everyone were tired, yet they looked forward to it more than the well-deserved rest afterward.

Councilor Sparatus announced thus; "Lastly, before we conclude, I now give the floor to General Desolas."

"Thank you, Ambassadors." the General addressed upon the appearance of his holographic image that together with his charisma made him seem larger than life. Still, Tevos could not help but believe his appearance has lately taken a gaunt turn. "I appear before you with joyous news." he continued after a moment of suspenseful silence, "Peak 17 has successfully researched and prototyped a new passive defense system module that will revolutionize the cyber-security of our fair galactic civilization. The means to block all attempts by artificial intelligence to undermine and spy on us."

"As we speak, twenty-seven modules have been completed with another twenty-three on the way. Each of these will be given a transport and directed to proper facilities on fifty separate worlds of your choosing for further testing and production."

General Desolas brought up his omni-tool, "We will now send you the data, and hope for your quick response. For the sake of Galactic Security we must not take overlong to erect this new defense."

Tevos looked down to her console, and hummed as the data package arrived. A motion repeated across the chamber as every representative began to browse and read eagerly. "The staff of Peak 17 have truly outdone themselves." Sparatus said formally.

"Such an innovation hardly seem possible." Valern followed up breathlessly as he rapidly browsed, "Not in such short time."

"For all this time we have been in a Geth-rich environment where electronic warfare has been more or less constant. In such a situatio-" the General made his argument mildly in light of Valern's doubt. It was, however, interrupted when the facility on his side suddenly shook and an alarm chimed urgently.

"Alert to all personnel, this is not a drill:" came the facility-wide announcement, "The exterior defensive line has been breached by geth forces. All combat personnel, to battle stations! This is not a drill!"

The General's reaction was instant as he made his exit, no attention paid to the hover camera that, intentionally or not, followed him out and down the crowded and oft narrow hallways. Tevos grimaced as she realized all those present in the Council Chambers would soon get to see the battle as it developed, and watched as the place rumbled while listening to distant gunfire that rang so very clearly to her ears. A spectacle that gained in clarity as the camera followed Desolas into the control room and focused on the dozens of screens that together or individually showed portions of the ongoing battle.

"Talk to me!" the General demanded sharply, "Give me a status report!"

"Sir!" a soldier crisply saluted, "Our exterior defenses have been breached."

"I can hear that!" he shot back, "How? Why do we hear of their approach only now?!"

"T-the geth burrowed in beneath us, sir. They sank large portions of the defensive line into a slew of underground tunnels, and are now using the holes to launch their attack."

"What is Colonel Rasus doing about this?"

"... His command post was in the third sunken section, General."

A growl of frustration left Desolas, "Connect me to the highest ranked officer still alive out there."

Tevos almost did not hear the conversation. Her gaze was fastened to the live feed that featured three of the holes mentioned as hundreds of geth, spearheaded by hulking Primes and Armatures, swarmed the exterior. Her blood ran cold as she watched the carnage, all the troops already dead or dying in the frigid snow, unable to fight back as the synthetics stomped past them and engaged those who still resisted.

A distraction followed as the image of a weathered old turian came to view. "This is Major Atrix." he barked, remarkably composed even as a gunfight raged just outside of his bunker, "Situation here is FUBAR. I have ordered all remaining forces to withdraw into the facility."

The General did not like that, "What is the situation, Major?"

"General. We are surrounded both tactically and strategically. We are outnumbered and outgunned. Our outlooks, the few who have not yet fallen to hoppers, have identified the presence of four dreadnought-class dôji. We can not hold against such force in our current state."

"Acknowledged, Major." Desolas curled his hands into rigid fists, "Withdraw."

"Understood, General. We will-" Major Atrix responded, only to be cut off when a subordinate within view died as the contents of his chest was violently ejected by the thrust of something huge. The feed was interrupted by this, and jumped around erratically as an intense wave of gunfire followed. "Shoot it! Keep shooting!" they heard the Major shout, "Emergency message to all units!"

An explosion of calls followed this, the sound of soldiers panicked by some new development.

"We have rachni!" Major Atrix screamed, "I repeat! By the Holy Spirits, we have a significant rachni pres-!" before the feed died from what appeared to be a splash of green ichor. Tevos watched in horror that spread throughout the Council Chambers like wildfire as the implications of this sank in like a festerous wound.

Shouts of dismay erupted among the representatives, and composure was lost in internecine argument. Tevos would have joined in on this, but her gaze could not be torn from the view as Major Atrix's loss resulted in a disturbingly swift rout for what remained of his forces. "This is a nightmare." she whispered, to which Valern bitterly voiced his agreement.

* * *

 _Location:_ Noveria; Peak 17.

Pardonner wasn't happy.

From the onset he accepted the need to carry out a complete eradication of enemy forces at this location. Organic or not, anyone foolish enough to collaborate with the kurozu deserved only to be exterminated, but that didn't mean he was at all happy about the necessity of it as he walked through a terrain of winding trenches filled with a sea of corpses and saw how their blood coalesced and seeped into the snow till it stiffened from the cold.

At a quiet stride he wandered, and listened as the gunfire of stragglers faltered and died down.

"Victory, huh." Pardonner whispered cheerlessly, and observed obliquely a soldier not yet dead. A turian who lay face-down in the snow, covered in blood. He was briefly tempted by light of his virtue to just move on and ignore this single survivor, but the steady breath and a tight grip on his rifle indicated an ambush in the making. Pardonner sighed and stabbed a single claw through the alien's skull.

So cleanly this was carried out that the blood did not erupt from the wound until after he withdrew the claw and quietly moved on.

Pardonner advanced steadily, and paid no attention to the many allies he passed along the way, and entered the road which led up to the facility's massive main entrance where his friends stood, in front of several lines worth of heavy geth units. All other units had given the spot a wide berth, and now only closed in as the dôji regrouped, silent as they waited for the call to resume their attack.

"Are you alright?" Service asked in concern.

"I'm not." Pardonner replied, "Let's crack this open, and get this over with."

"That, I am all for." Désir said as he in a licentious manner licked his claws clean, being the only one among them who was at ease with this slaughter. Slow looked like he wanted to say something, but was momentarily distracted by this display.

He pressed lightly, "Slow?"

"Yeah." Slow tore his gaze from the Aspect of Lust, "There's a large garage beyond this. As a betting guy, I suppose they got a robust defensive line already set up in wait for us."

"So..." Désir murmured, a knee placed slightly forward, "Break it in a big way?"

"Yep."

"Awesome." he raised a newly cleaned gauntlet and had it reconfigured in a flash, "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Drum."

Pardonner followed suit, "Karakuri Henge: Butterfly Drum."

"Karakuri Henge: Sparrow Drum."

Slow nodded, "Karakuri Henge: Deer Drum."

A quick exchange of looks and nods followed before they all pointed their fashioned weapons against the massive door. No doubt the aliens inside watched them point these strange drum-like instruments with perplexity, seeming so innocuous compared to the thousands of war machines and murderous insects that massed behind them in anticipation. If there were doubts, they vanished like leaves in the wind as the unorthodox weapons were discharged, and the door... along with everything in the garage were blown away in a single immense wave of sound energy. The doors, what remained of them, the vehicles inside, the barricades that had been rigorously set up, and the people who manned them and their heavy weapons – those who weren't outright shaken apart by the extremely violent reverberations – were flung away and crushed unceremoniously against whichever surface they met first. Those who survived the initial impact lost their lives in a scream of uncomprehending fear as everything between them and the dôji smashed into them in due turn.

Pardonner felt sick at the devastation.

"Onward!" Slow, his tone laced with bitterness, told those behind, "Kill them all!"

Words he never thought would leave the mouth from any one of the six, but there was a first for everything. A roar followed in any case, a warbling cry from geth and rachni alike as they moved in.

"No going back now." Désir smirked, and ran ahead.

"Indeed." Pardonner sighed as he and the rest echoed the motion. Regretful or not, it was time to go on a rampage.

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

"What devastation..." someone gasped.

Tevos did not know who said it. She just stood there, mouth agape, at what had wiped out the second line of defense so effortlessly. General Desolas was also disquieted by what happened, and immediately ceased all further reinforcement of the garage.

Firefights of mindboggling intensity took place shortly as the defenders fought the enemy at every path of advance. Hails of gunfire and blistering explosions filled every corridor that led from the garage, and piles of dead built up rapidly on both sides. Yet no matter how hard the defenders fought, they were forced to relent as the dôji made their presence further felt, along with the uncertainty brought when the smaller forms of rachni, their workers, started to swarm through the vents and threw themselves at every fireteam they found who promptly suffered a gruesome end as the creatures self-detonated and rained corrosive ichor upon them.

The hallways turned into charnel houses, and there seemed to be no end to it.

Peak 17's doomed if this keeps up.

"Hehe..." General Desolas began to laugh, much to Tevos' disbelief, "Magnificent. Forget about the geth, forget about the rachni. Those dôji...! I can't get enough of their incredible strength!"

"General, they will be at the forward hall soon." his adjutant at the location informed.

Desolas nodded, "Signal all sections! Codename: Bird Cage!"

In other words, the General planned for the possibility of a scenario such as this.

Tevos kept a close eyes on the security feeds, and watched as doors fell shut across much of the occupied portions of the facility with such force that they inadvertently mulched many a corpse, and caused the quartet of dôji to only have a couple dozen minions at their side when they converged in the forward hall, a broad space meant as a place of convenience for employees who otherwise would spend their days in narrow spaces.

Strangely, though, it was completely bare of defenses. Relatively unblemished and spotless, Tevos struggled to imagine what bringing them there was meant to accomplish, until several turrets popped out from hidden compartments. The rachni did not even know what hit them as they were pulped into unrecognizable masses of meat. Even the geth managed to just barely let loose a few shots before the turrets perforated them.

The turrets attempted to gun down the dôji as well, who bunched together covered and their faces and chests with those gauntlets. Rather than take cover they just held ground and weathered the barrage until it sputtered to an end when the turrets somehow broke down.

Which did not make one lick of a sense. How could a whole set of military grade turrets short out and become inoperable at precisely the same time?!

"Turrets are ineffective." Desolas' adjutant told him needlessly.

"No matter." the General shook his head, mandibles clicking in excitement, "The dôji are for now without backup, and we must capitalize on that while it last."

Soon as the last syllable left him, all six pillars scattered throughout the hall abruptly opened up and released a set of at least fifteen feet tall bipedal and numbered machines – manned, or VI controlled? – that appeared mostly turian in build, their pitch black armor a stark contrast to the mostly white hall. With mechanical precision these came about and launched themselves at the far more diminutive synthetics who momentarily stared back before they in swirling motions sprang into action.

The lights subsequently flickered, died out, and came back on again. Tevos wondered whether there was another malfunction, but Desolas did not react beyond a curt chortle.

"Just like that, on and off, irregularly. Force their optics to constantly readjust." the General said, and added, "Now, open a line to the forward hall."

"Yes, General." his adjutant obliged, "It's done."

"Dôji." General Desolas began after a weighted pause, his voice echoing into the ongoing battle, "I am General Desolas Arterius, assigned Supreme Commander of the Geth Front. You have come to my doorstep to disturb my work here, and I must commend the foolishness of such a reckless attack, however well-executed it may be."

"My army, my fleet, will see you surrounded. Outnumbered beyond measure. I will show you strength the likes of which no amount of your phenomenal power can lay low."

"I will see you taken down and captured. I will see you strapped to the tables of our stellar facilities. And I will watch as the best researchers of Council Space dig from you every little one of your secrets and make them our own."

"I can hardly wait."

"Slow." the General said suddenly, the feeds focusing on the dark-robed dôji who has been the source of much trouble on Noveria. Currently, it dueled with Number Six, and with blistering speed helped amply by thrusters hidden in the folds of its clothes repeatedly approached the towering machine's face with every seeming intention to carve it apart with its elongated claws. Attempts only prevented for now by the sheer agility of the turian-shaped machine as it reared back and weaved. "Aspect of Diligence. Your power is the one I want the most, your ability to control fate itself to your advantage! So many times you have waylaid and hampered us due to it, but Spirits willing, every path will be made closed to you!"

"Service." he followed up as the image shifted to the blue-haired dôji whose most significant attribute at a glance was the sleeveless top it wore. It had just successfully tripped Number One so it crashed bodily into the floor, and attempted a coup de grâce that was only interrupted by the intervention of Number Three which at that instant swung a massive fist at it from above with sufficient suddenness that the dôji was forced to leap out of its way. "Aspect of Generosity. Such a lofty title. Your ability to control the powers of others as if they were your own is fascinating to say the least, yet it will not save you from the inevitable."

The General made a slight turn as the image shifted again to a dôji whose choice of suit covered it the most. "Pardonner." he introduced, and watched triumphantly as Number Four successfully wrapped its huge hands around the lithe form, its only arm not to be caught in turn gripped so hard on the wrist of Number Four's left arm that its armor started to crack. "Aspect of Patience. Your ability to freely control the finer functions of others within your vicinity is worthy of note. I would in any case be mad to ignore a power that can, among so many things, blind opponents at will."

"And finally, Désir." the feed focused on the pink-haired dôji just in time to see it rip Number Five's left arm from its socket and hurl it away. The synthetic's claws' twitched eagerly as held firm to the much larger automaton's arm-less shoulder, and swung its free arm to tear away further chunks. A task that would have succeeded if Number Five's remaining arm did not produce an over-sized arc projector that in the resulting discharge launched Désir into the nearest wall. "I can't help but notice how Number Five has grown more sluggish than it was a few moments ago. Must be your ability to weaken whoever you fight. A power I suppose fits the so-called Aspect of Lust well."

Tevos was not sure why he decided to go on this monologue, and doubly so about whether to believe half of those claims he made so confidently, or where he got that information to begin with. All she could ultimately conclude was that the General had much on his mind, and probably intended to distract the synthetics further if at all possible.

Too bad it appeared to have fallen on deaf ears.

"Ow..." Désir expressed a faint groan, giving no indication of having listened as it slid to the bench just below and rubbed its back, "Just a lousy electrical shock, but I can feel it in my spine. Ugh, it still stings... Seriously, what if it disrupts my sex life? You little bastards, now I'm really mad!"

Tevos blinked. _Sex life...?_

It raised its right arm threateningly, and its gauntlet went on to transform into something huge, then grew bigger and bigger till it completed an hourglass-shaped mallet twenty feet in height. "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Mallet!" Désir identified in a growl, and swung it so swiftly and forcefully that Number Five could only raise its remaining arm before the mallet hit... and smashed it into, then through the floor.

"Much better." Désir growled, its proffered arm returning to its prior shape, "Just to let you know, I can find it in myself to forgive such transgression. What I won't ever forgive, however.." and rounded on the machine that held Pardonner in place, "Hey, ruststain! Get your filthy paws off my future bondmate!"

"Eh?" was pretty much the gathered representatives' collective response.

"D-don't go decide that by yourself," Pardonner sharply responded, ignoring Number Four in favor of yelling at the pink-haired dôji, "i-idiot!" before it crushed the automaton's wrist, and from there pulled the hand now only partially attached straight off.

In the wake of this dismemberment, many here likely wondered what action Number Four would take. Whatever it was to be, they had no choice but to be disappointed as a huge hole was blown through its chest, courtesy of a small-scale application of Pardonner's 'Butterfly Drum' that went on to graze Number Two's back as it tried to grab Slow just when he finally managed to latch onto Number Six.

A snarl left the General, displeased by how this particular battle's turning out.

Tevos felt she had to echo his sentiment, but her mind was clouded in confusion as she watched Désir proceed to go and fuss over Pardonner who in obvious irritation demanded for it to go away. Sex lives? Bondmate? Did it speak of an intent to marry? These are things that fell in line with the testimonies given by Liara T'soni and her group. Except... what she knew from them and what she saw from here could not be the truth. Synthetics by their very nature are vastly different from organics, so different that common ground could not possibly be found.

It's all a trick. A clever deception to mislead organics too gullible for their own good.

Yet she could not shake from her mind the amount of raw emotion invested in the pink-haired one's incensed cry.

* * *

Location: Noveria; Peak 17; Forward Hall.

Number Six was quite agile for its size, but the moment Slow landed onto its chest his victory was only a matter of simple procedure. He stabbed the whole length of his right arm into its chest and rifled through the innards till he caught its core, and with a solid grip crushed both it and the cables attached to it into a lump of scrap.

"Okay, who's next?" Slow inquired as he pushed himself up and came to stand on top of Number Six as it fell flat on its back. His gaze fell onto the then-distracted Number Two, and smirked at its choice to – from the damage inflicted seconds ago – turn in Pardonner's direction. A large portion of its back armor now only barely attached. "My, my, what a nice bullseye you got there~"

If the thing understood its current position, it showed no sign of such.

"Karakuri Henge: Deer Boomerang." Slow called, eyes on his right-arm claws as they were quickly reconfigured into a single huge curved blade he proceeded to launch after a quick but graceful spin of his body.

With such a severely broken back armor, Number Two did not even have a prayer as the rapidly spinning blade carved straight through it and after a lazy swing returned to Slow's gauntlet, just in time for the broken machine to come crashing down.

"Four down, two to go."

The remains of Number Three proceeded to fly past him, its head and a large portion of its chest entirely absent.

"I stand corrected. One to go."

* * *

With no other automaton left to keep the other Aspects occupied, Number One underwent a change in performance Service found entirely predictable as exceedingly hot air blew from what vents existed on its body. "Can't find a way out but to overclock, huh. You should have done that sooner." Service commented as it tried to deliver to him a deluge of downward punches he nimbly dodged by stepping backward till he met a wall.

Consequently it reared back and brought about a taloned fist in a huge arc.

Service smiled daintily, and presented to this his left arm, "Karakuri Henge: Jackknife." It was a small thing he put forward, a small weapon shaped stylistically in the image of a sparrow's head. While unimpressive in appearance, it was a gun that matched Sparrow Drum in raw power, but across a much narrower and more concentrated area of effect.

So when he fired it, he produced a fine hole through the whole of Number One's arm, which then through the resulting extreme stress caused the whole limb to violently fly apart.

The machine tried to withdraw, probably to reassess.

"How foolish are you, trying to retreat from one with this kind of firepower? But... luckily for you; I don't feel like using the same move twice on fodder." Service commented wryly, and launched himself so he flew at Number One's chest, his right arm brandished and quickly shaped into much angrier sparrow's visage, "Karakuri Henge: Jackhammer!"

Number One had no choice except to take the blow, and got its chest caved thoroughly in as a result.

Service licked his lips in satisfaction, and before the machine crashed leaped on from its ruined torso to where his comrades started to gather, "That it?"

"Looks like..." Désir said, "Could use more of a warm-up, though. Right?" he addressed Pardonner who huffed and insisted on looking away.

Slow leaned close to him, "So, have Désir managed to get any closer to him in my absence?"

"What do you think?" Service giggled as he recalled, "Every time he manage to take a step, he goes on to ruin it."

"Business as usual, huh."

"Yep."

"What are you two muttering abou-" Pardonner, palms on hips, started to ask in suspicion when a number of machines – decidedly smaller ones than what preceded them – raced into the hall and took up positions from where they brandished huge harpoon launchers of all things.

Fifteen of the things promptly filled the air – attached to thick wires.

"Really?" Service deadpanned.

* * *

Pardonner was curious at first at his colleague's reaction and looked over his shoulder just in time to see the first of several harpoons streak past his head. At that moment his sentiment echoed Service's exactly, and he partially from reflex reached up to the weapon and for the sparsest moment stroked a claw across its chrome-colored shape before he snapped the gauntlet shut and stopped it dead.

Next, he span and used the same gauntlet's broad side to slap about a third of the harpoons from the air – two of them meant for his left shoulder and abdomen.

Slow and Désir appeared at his side and grabbed all that remained by the wires. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Désir grinned savagely.

"Oh yeah." Slow chimed in, "Pardonner, Service, grab the rest before they're reeled back in."

"Are we fishing or something?" Pardonner hummed as he snatched up two just in time, and anchored himself in due order.

Service followed suit, and in a leap forward caught the rest which had built up enough speed in their return to make him skid forward till he managed to stomp a foot through the floor and ground himself to a half, "Got 'em."

That done, uncertainty blossomed as the pilots of each machine shifted nervously at this unexpected turn of events. "To answer your question: Nah." Slow braced himself and pulled so the machines which wires he caught came to skid a little closer in a screeching cacophony despite their best effort to stay put, "We're doing a tug of war."

Looks were exchanged, and smirks appeared on all their faces as they all started to reel in the manned machines so forcefully their release mechanisms were twisted out of shape while their operators fought the controls and screamed at one another.

* * *

 _Location:_ Noveria; Peak 17; Control Room.

The vurtoks he sent in did not last long at all.

General Desolas could only watch in thinly veiled frustration as the machines along with their pilots were reeled in and put down summarily, adding yet more wreckage to what used to be a spotless hall of relaxation. He looked on with eyes on envy as the dôji once again prevented capture and gained in advantage, and with their troops almost past the obstacles he placed in their way, there was not enough time for further attempts.

None he could put to play at any rate considering his audience.

The Council probably watched him now in suspense, in the hopes he could turn this increasingly hopeless situation around. Something increasingly on the side of impossible now that his pseudo-Deus ex Machina lay in tatters, and the push renewed as the geth and rachni finally removed the obstacles that barred them and rejoined the dôji.

Nothing quite like having spoken too soon.

"Your orders, sir?" his adjutant asked.

"Have all remaining personnel reinforce what positions they can. The underground transfer route must be protected until all the prototypes are away."

 _So much for PR…_ Desolas glumly thought as he brought up his omni-tool and disabled the camera before he continued, "Empty all vats and arsenals, I want everything with a weapon to join the fight. If the dôji want to break this facility, they will have to work for it!"

* * *

 **A** **uthor notes:** This chapter was supposed to be several thousand words longer, but somewhere the tempo just died down, quality plummeted, and my impatience grew as I could not find a good flow. So I went and trimmed the chapter down. I planned to have Saren and Nihlus participate here also, but their appearance will have to take place within the next chapter. Same for the truth behind these seemingly benign prototypes Desolas spoke of.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Assault on Peak 17, Part Two**

* * *

 _Nineteen minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Noveria; Peak 17; Brig.

Forty-five days ago, Peak 17 did not have a brig. As a research facility it was never supposed to have one, but a day later it was given one in the wake of an incident where Saren, and Nihlus with him, attempted to sabotage the factory after he gave up entirely on convincing his errant brother to come around from the insanity he allowed to grow and fester in the glacial depths.

Saren had hoped they could cause enough damage to give time for people with more power than themselves to find out about what has been going on at this facility and do something definitive about it, but for naught.

Thrown into a cell with no commodities aside from a pair of bunk beds and a toilet, they were condemned to a life of boredom where they lived in perpetual fear of the designated Warden – a horrific cyborg produced from the body of a salarian scientist who reportedly was deemed to be of no further use.

Most of the time it remained out of sight, and tittered like a maniac from time to time simply for the sake of unnerving them. Desolas actually considered the abomination to be _amusing_.

And it smelled absolutely vile.

It did not get better with time.

Countless times they reiterated old arguments and conversations just to blunt the boredom born from being so completely isolated from the outside world. Desolas intended in full to break and remold them to his way of thinking, but Saren and his friend steadfastly refused to.

A grueling existence they hoped to see the end of now as Peak 17 shuddered continuously in the throes of a fierce battle. The closeness of it such that it could only mean the outer defenses have been resolutely crushed. This was no betrayal from within, as was eventually expected, but an intervention from the outside.

He and Nihlus laughed at every thud of cannon fire, and hitched with glee whenever an explosion rocked the interior. It was complete madness to do so, but they did not care. After many dozen days of endless monotony this clamor was positively exhilarating. Saren wanted to try shaking the bars out of a desire to vent some energy, and would have if such an act did not run the risk of getting his digits severed by the still-vigilant Warden.

All he could do was wait and hope for release the Warden would from its recessed compartment in the ceiling do its damnedest to prevent.

Saren steeled himself for a scene of inevitable slaughter when someone finally came around to enter the brig, but soon tightened up his mandibles when he noticed something was off about the stranger's footsteps that produced not the clang of armor against the floor of metal he expected.

Not even light infantry could walk so softly.

Many questions cropped up inside of him, but all went away as a very slight figure rounded the bend ahead and approached their cell candidly. Saren had hoped those to dissolve Peak 17 would be Council forces led by someone more insightful and sane than his brother, but facts needed to be faced.

The geth and the lone dôji Aspect who supposedly led them would most likely be the ones to carry out Peak 17's disassembly. That being thought, Saren did not expect to see this particular dôji at all.

"Saren, Nihlus..." Pardonner observed with a trace of surprise as he arrived at the bars.

"Talking can wait!" Saren hurriedly interrupted, "You must deal with the Warden first!"

No sooner did the last word leave him before the cyborg dropped from that recess it called home and with a shrill shriek attacked right off the bat. Usually a salarian would not be considered as much of a threat in close combat, but this one had his forearms and legs below the knees removed in favor of prosthetic limbs that ended in long spikes sharp enough to put holes through plates of steel. It proffered its right leg and stabbed at the dôji's head.

Pardonner looked up just in time to see the spike come within an inch of his left eye, and leaned away with a speed that defied belief so the cyborg missed before he swiped at it. Unfortunately this was not the Warden's end as it ducked onto all four and dodged the blow, if narrowly.

"Heehee!" the cyborg tittered on, oblivious to the silver semi-liquid that oozed from its deranged mouth, "Hee!"

The dôji stared at it, his blue eyes filled with disgust, "Yet another one..."

Not about to hear him complain, the cyborg shoved itself upright in a burst of speed sufficient to successfully initiate a jump and vaulted over its target. A motion completed so fast that any organic to have it for an opponent would have been perforated by numerous stabs from behind before the person could turn around.

A capability Saren knew very well because Desolas at one time had the Warden execute a scientist who disappointed him one too many times in such a manner.

However, it utilized this against a synthetic who was more than able to follow its movements, and therein lay the seed of its destruction. Pardonner maintained eye contact and twisted himself halfway around while it was in the air and swung his left arm through the area directly above fast enough that he managed to tightly grab its prosthetic legs and clenched so they snapped right off at the calves.

Bereft of half its arsenal, the cyborg was thrown wildly off-balance and by its own momentum haphazardly crashed so it skidded along and wound up against the opposing wall where it sputtered more of the silvery liquid and what remained of the native blood as it tried to come about and attack again.

Had this been the action of a living being, Saren would have felt inclined to recognize it as laudable, if reckless.

Pardonner offered no accolade and stared the Warden down for all of the two instants it took the cyborg to lunge at him again... only to be cleanly cut into six pieces with a single swipe of a gauntlet, its spindly digits spread wide.

"Disgusting..." the dôji softly hissed before he turned back to them, his usually stoic gaze lit with unmistakable fury, "That said, I really did not expect to find you guys here, though I suppose I should have suspected the possibility of it given the involvement of one who shares your last name, Saren."

"He's my brother by blood, actually." Saren growled, his tone laced with bitterness, "Not that it counts for much anymore. He's a madman and a traitor, and in retrospect I should have seen to his death rather than attempt to sabotage the factory..."

"That explains why you're behind bars." Pardonner as he inverted a gauntlet, then shoved it into the twelfth gap and bent the bars wide enough open that a turian could easily fit through. "though not for much longer. Should probably give you a quick checkup, though, before you go anywhere."

"Of all things necessary right now, that's not it." Saren argued as he pushed himself through the gap soon as the gauntlet was withdrawn, "All we need are weapons and armor."

The slender synthetic regarded him evenly, "You intend to join the fight."

"Of course." Nihlus growled as he followed suit, "Wouldn't want to leave without first giving due regards to our inclusive host."

"There are a few armories around here." Pardonner said, not objecting to their involvement very much, "Most of the armors within are like to be configured with his cyborg troops in mind, though."

Saren acknowledged that possibility, "Even if we find only weapons to use, you can count us in."

Pardonner shook his head sternly, "I won't allow you anywhere near the front without at least a modicum of protective gear." and maintained the composure even as the facility shook from a chain of explosions, no more than a couple of floors from their location. All he did was lift his gaze a little further. "Must seem really heroic to the aliens out there, this sort of last stand. If they only knew those detonations were caused by lobotomized volus bloated to the folds with chemicals that really don't behave well when exposed to each other and the air, whichever comes first. Against that and the like you really don't want go anywhere near the action while in civilian wear."

"Nothing quite like a stern talking-to..." Nihlus sighed, "I get your point."

"As do I, however reluctant." Saren agreed.

"Good." the dôji made a sharp turn for the exit, "Follow me, then. See if we might scrounge for you some workable equipment. Make sure to stay close to me."

Saren was about to ask why as they followed, and found out the reason why as they entered the hallway beyond and found the formerly immaculate place a torrential mess, filled with debris, corpses, and several dozen geth who presently consolidated the area – more than a few of whom directed their light bulb heads and weaponry at Nihlus and himself without a shred of hesitation. The only reason they were not perforated on the spot was because of Pardonner who held up a gauntlet and tersely told them to not shoot.

The dôji likewise directed an order up at the vents, "Same goes for you. These two are not to be touched unless attacked first."

Whatever was there, it heard him and promptly scuttled away along with about four dozen others.

"Er, what was that?" Nihlus probed once the scuttling was gone.

"Rachni." Pardonner said as if that made perfect sense, then added; "Long story."

Saren desperately wanted to ask exactly how there can be any Rachni out there at all, but the dôji appeared disinclined to answer this as he led them to the nearest armory and basically told them to knock themselves out, which he promptly translated into "Take what you want." upon their confused reaction.

 _Since when did 'knock yourselves out' mean 'take what you want'?_ Saren thought in bewilderment, then dismissed his question in favor of checking what hard-suits remained. Most of them were unfortunately made for cyborgs in mind, just as was thought. He took one analytical glimpse into one of them and found to his distaste several invasive instruments that made him wonder if anyone among Desolas' troops can even be called turians anymore.

"Saren, I've found some we can use." Nihlus called out as he withdrew a pair of combat hard-suits from a nearby rack with an approving nod. Normally he wouldn't choose light armor for the kind of fighting he expected to find here, but it was better than nothing. "Now we only need weapons."

"Leave those to me." Pardonner assured and stepped out for wherever he had in mind, which left them to remove their civilian attire in favor of the combat hard-suits Nihlus found. The process took a few fair minutes, but with each piece that fell into place Saren felt increasingly secure, and not to mention enthusiastic.

Said enthusiasm fizzled out quickly, though, when the silhouette of a dôji whose appearance they knew only from news broadcasts showed up at the door and while the claws twitched frowned at them.

 _Oh crap..._

"I didn't believe it at first when I was told Pardonner decided to spare the lives of a couple of turians, yet here you are..." Aspect Slow addressed them in a manner most severe as he crossed the threshold, "Leave none alive, was the plan, to make sure not one collaborator or kurozu would leave this station. What did you do to make him spare and even protect your lives?"

Saren wanted to interject, but they were too busy backpedaling from this dôji who very clearly broadcast his intention to kill them. By the time they widened the gap it was too late to explain as the Aspect picked up speed and ate up the distance between them. Nihlus threw him a worried glance that spoke volumes for what chances they had to survive this encounter.

Unarmed, all that could be done was to try and dodge. Saren jumped to the left while his comrade went in the opposite direction.

It did not even take a moment for the synthetic to decide which one to go for and snaked an arm around his waist so to bring him to a halt, and followed it up with a stab that probably would have gone through him. Saren was happy he did not have to find out as the blow was stopped cold by Pardonner who just returned, and managed to grab the offending elbow just in the nick of time.

The blue-eyed dôji stared at his colleague stoically, "Slow, don't kill them... or else we're going to have a problem here."

"We all agreed to the plan, Pardonner." Slow hissed back at him, not about to relent.

"And I intended to follow it to the letter until I found these two." Pardonner said with not even a twitched brow, his posture firm, "They are former patients of mine, acquaintances, and enemies of Desolas both. I found them in a prison cell not far from here, and I'm telling you here and now to let them go."

Slow maintained his glare and the position before he released Saren from his grasp, "Fine, but the moment they act up..."

"If they prove themselves corrupted beyond any shadow of doubt, I'll kill them myself."

"So much for the safety you acclaimed." Saren growled as he rubbed the area he suspected the earlier blow would have landed, until Pardonner shoved into his arms a pair of plasma shotguns likely salvaged from fallen geth. "Much appreciated." he coughed and tossed one to Nihlus who awkwardly caught and appraised it.

"Yeah..." Pardonner sighed as he watched Slow leave, "I should have brought you with."

"And I am just glad that help came on time." Nihlus spoke up, eyes still on the new gun, "Knew that would happen."

Saren's acerbic remark could have cut glass; "Sure you did."

"In any case you are armed and armored both, now." Pardonner rejoined with an appraising bent claw placed against his chin, "You're as ready for combat now as you can be on short notice."

"Good to know." Nihlus rumbled, eyes still on the new gun, "Now how about a sitrep?"

"Right." the lithe dôji obliged with a slight tilt of his head, "We are currently in control of eighty percent of the installation... not counting the factory – its cyber-security has proven far too comprehensive for the geth to breach. We have split our assault in two because of this and expedited penetration into the factory while the rest home in on Desolas' HQ. Our target is the latter."

Pardonner paused, "Needless to say, we need to complete these two objectives before the Council mobilize a large enough force to overrun our rearguard."

"Who's in charge of shutting down the factory?"

"There's no point telling you, only time wasted." Pardonner brushed the question off, "We are far enough behind schedule as it is." and beckoned for them as he strode purposefully for the door, "Let's go, the troops are waiting for us."

Saren inclined his head and adjusted the helmet as he followed, their footsteps momentarily deafened as yet more rachni plowed past overhead.

* * *

 _Location:_ Noveria; Peak 17; Factory.

The loss of equipment was extensive, but while Desolas has thrown all the resources at his immediate disposal in an all-out defense against the intruders, a sizable reserve remained within the factory depths. A reserve that roared to life as the enemy grew nearer every passing minute.

When it reached a critical point, the reserve activated and filled the factory's darkened halls with nightmarish forms that scuttled onward a contingent at a time. A horde of robotic creatures that ranked from facsimiles of varren whose great jaws – filled with many rows of absurdly sharp teeth – could snap an armature in half, klixen derivatives who could spew corrosive acid, and vast spidery forms that sported the tonnage and armament equal to any of the more advanced battle tanks out there. Many more shapes came out one after another, as varied as they are deadly.

A veritable collection of nightmares that could by appearance alone turn an onlooker's blood to ice in a heartbeat.

Like a swarm of insects these creatures made for the elevator that lead down from the facility above and coated it in so many target solutions that it would likely fade away altogether if all the machines unloaded their weaponry – of the mundane and exotic variety alike – unto it.

The mass of machines completed the preparations just in time as the closest engagement turned silent, and waited quietly for the barrel to fill up with fish... until a number of the larger ones in a disturbing show of synchronicity turned and pivoted their armaments when a pair of dôji burst through a section of wall above them.

It did not even take a moment for the air to be filled with tungsten rounds.

Désir activated his thrusters and dived at once into an evasive roll, and found thereafter a gap within the hail to race through. Without hesitation he entered it, and made slight course correction every every other second as the machines below worked to correct their aim until he was just a few feet from an open spot in the middle of this swarm and upended himself before he effected a hard enough landing to dent it.

"Karakuri Henge:" he called, "Rabbit Horns x2!"

With both gauntlets brandished he put two heavy munitions with delayed fuses he fabricated at the same time and through the spider tanks immediately in sight and opened up gaping holes in the formation as they flew apart from the resulting explosions in a spectacular fashion.

Service landed behind him just after, "Karakuri Henge: Jackhammer x2!" and laid into the monkey-like machines that tried to pounce on him from behind, shattering them into broken fragments through no more than a pure application of blunt trauma.

They shot one another a smile over their shoulders, and span around one another in conjunction. Désir focused on blasting the heavy units, from now with compressed air rounds, while his colleague struck down the lighter mechanism who tried to rush them from all-around, each of his graceful movements ending in the demolition of a given target.

At one time another spider tank came, this time through the floor and from point blank range placed the barrel that stuck out where its mandibles would be against Service's forehead.

"Slap me!" Service demanded tersely.

Désir did not immediately see what kind of predicament Service was in, but followed the request in a bodily spin that saw his left arm wind up where Service's head would have been, if he had not immediately ducked. Instead what he swatted aside was the machine's proffered gun, and caused its intended round to gut a nearby varren wholesale.

"Thank you~" his blue-haired colleague giggled and followed up before he swung a punch that smashed the spider tank's head into the floor, almost mass-scattering it completely.

That done, they continued on like before and tore a swathe through the plethora of machines and forced ever more to turn from the elevator till it was all but unguarded by the time it opened to reveal a whole stack of Armatures, as many as could be squeezed in, who opened up a full fusillade that melted away their initial set of immediate targets before they pulled out of the elevator and allowed a steady stream of lesser geth platforms into this initial stretch of this factory while rachni – warriors and workers alike – poured in from the vents in a skittering tide.

In the blink of an eye it caused an all-out brawl to break out as the extremes of synthetic and organic evolution hammered it out with each their form of calculated fury.

"We have a bunch of enemy reinforcements incoming, Désir – six o'clock!" Service notified.

"I see them." Désir replied, obliquely observing while he tore the head from a wildly kicking mechanical varren that had tried its best to swallow him whole as several scores of war machines stomped and skittered from various entrances to get involved. An exceedingly large beetle-like thing opened up concealed compartments and unleashed a flurry of small missiles on the combatants, blowing up geth, rachni, and preoccupied kurozu alike. One of the guided munitions headed for Service who with a huff slapped it aside.

Three armatures disengaged promptly to lash out to the beetle, one of them succumbing as yet another spider tank came out and with repeated shots broke through kinetic barrier and armor both till it crumpled uselessly. The remaining two continued without it, and through a generous application of both their main guns and coaxials managed to deconstruct it in short order, which left only the forty or so smaller minions around it. A mess of bipedal machines shaped like turians – if said turians just took a dive into an acid bath – who unleashed on the whirling melee a plethora of heavy mass accelerators, felling several geth and detonating a mess of rachni workers in short order.

Losses that did not even faze either, particularly the geth who diverted onto this particular set of targets a large dose of troopers and pyros, expanding the fight ever further as more reinforcements came to bulk up the forces on either side.

However, slowly but inexorably, their entry gained in momentum and a solid push was built up as they moved across the initial platform and into the factory complex proper where things would get truly hazardous.

Not one part of the machinery used for production could be trusted. Industrial robots tried to attack them at every turn, and in more than one occasion a machine tore itself from where it was firmly bolted to the ground and waded into combat where it used great lengths of the conveyor systems as makeshift clubs. Everything that could be were set on proximity fuse, which combined with previous factors and what remained of what passed for standard combat units among the kurozu meant that the order soon was given to shoot at everything that seemed suspicious – and everything that didn't. Fire filled whole compartments soon, along with gas of such toxicity that rachni warriors croaked and died by the dozen.

"Out of here, out! All rachni, out!" Désir heard Service cry out while he took and grabbed onto a massive makeshift cudgel one of the larger machines, a four-legged mess with a pair of powerful industrial robots for arms, then snapped it in half with a forceful tug and a quick chop with his other arm. Not about to leave it at that as the machine adjusted itself to compensate for the damaged weapon, Désir hopped onto the closest knee and thrust a fist deeply enough into its box-like chest to crush its core, leaving the automaton to limply collapse, and him to huff and leave it to find a target better worth his time.

A search delayed when Service pushed out of a nearby wall of smoke while wiping soot from his fair face.

"Did the bugs get out?" Désir folded his arms and queried, idly gauging his colleague's dirtied appearance.

The blue-haired dôji acknowledged him with a sidelong glance, "About half of them, almost, before things truly took a turn for the worse. Seriously, the way things are going we'll see the factory demolished long before we reach the point where charges can be set."

"It's like this in every compartment?"

"And worse. It's like the kurozu don't care if they lose everything they've built here."

"Do they, though?" Désir cocked his head, "Going by precedent, we might be looking at a holding action – an attempt to slow our progress."

"Now that you mention it..." Service's golden eyes gleamed, then dimmed, "but then again, are they trying to escape or are they preparing some sort of weapon? It's not like they can start another factory without influential collaborators – who aren't particularly available to begin with – to cover up their activities."

The Aspect of Lust took a long look at their surroundings, as the fighting continued amid the smoke and fumes, "True... but what if this factory was built with a specific purpose in mind not dependent on its survival beyond a certain point?"

Service took this into consideration as he directed his gaze to the floor. "An interesting question." he quietly whispered, "Whichever turns out to be the case, however, we best get moving."

As if to punctuate the statement, another giant lumbered into sight and set all its four optics – arranged into a cross-like pattern – on them. Like the four-legged thing he fought it came armed with a melee weapon large in scale. A flail in this case.

"From a scale of one to ten," the Aspect of Generosity started to ask as the automaton began to swing its weapon at them, "how likely is it this one came at us because of what we just discussed?"

"Seven." Désir shrugged, "I'll grab the striking part while you put it down."

"Don't you want to do the slaying?"

"Right now, I'd say those with cute posteriors get to go first."

"Oh you~" Service giggled before he rushed in, and left Désir to his self-imposed task of intercepting the wrecking ball and keep it from potentially careening through the compartment upon its wielder's demise.

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

 _Location:_ Noveria; Peak 17; Central Office.

Desolas had hoped the factory would remain undiscovered for a while yet when he arranged the interior defenses so none of the fighting would take place near it, but unexpectedly a small portion of the attackers split away and searched unguarded areas till they by chance came across it.

And because of that, there was no other choice for him but to expedite the deliveries and gave the order for the last batch to be sent before he and what remained of his personnel came to suffer from a severe drop in concentration.

Even though he had chosen to close himself off in his office, the place shook as the defenses placed across the greater office spaces beyond were taken apart as the attack upon his position was renewed. With the dôji and their allies now in the factory, there was no longer any point to maintain a steadfast last stand.

He gave his subordinates the order to organize the barricades and distribute heavy weapons as they saw fit and left them to it.

After that he just withdrew to the office and for much of the fight to follow sat on his desk with a lone pistol in hand. Desolas remained there with not one ounce of regret beyond the missed opportunity to see a dôji Aspect dissected, its secrets revealed for the world to see, and that he would not be alive to see the operation and its aftermath play out.

No, he could live with that.

Desolas blinked, his mandibles twitching as he heard movement outside the door. Such fools. How they struggle.

Momentarily he flinched as the door was promptly ripped open, and expected a dôji to come through before a turian covered in light armor not given to his enhanced troops nearly jumped in with a geth shotgun in hand. _Not one of my soldiers..._ Desolas' eyes widened slightly as he recognized those movements, and realized the soldier's identity even with a concealing helmet on.

"Saren..." Desolas greeted in a tone of resignation, "Even to the last, you disappoint me."

" _I've_ disappointed _you_?" Saren asked pointedly, incensed beyond words, "After all the atrocities you have committed against the people you are charged to protect, you have the unmitigated gall to consider me the one astray?!"

"Sacrifices for the sake of the final elevation of the turian people." he brushed it aside, irritated at his own brother's unwillingness to act on their behalf rather than consorting with the dôji. How could he be so blind? "A path we must take."

"A path covered in corpses that will only end when there's not one dead left to set in place." his brother bit, "You're a madman living in a delusion."

"I was deluded to think a weak mind like yours could be convinced to aid in our great effort, rather." Desolas shrugged, his interest directed increasingly toward the next person to enter. An austere dôji whose implicit desire to rip him limb from limb practically rolled off of him in waves, the very same who was captured on the unnamed red planet, and who managed to escape and venture on to a path of resistance that has led to this very moment as their eyes met.

Had it only attacked without the additional backup from its peers, the remaining scientists in his employ would have been in the process of cutting it open ere now.

"Aspect Slow..." Desolas chuckled darkly as he pushed himself off the desk and rose to his full height, wholly ignoring the gun Saren pointed at him, "I—"

"Save your breath." Slow hissed angrily, its slanted eyes alight with a certain form of eager anticipation, "You're going to need it over the course of time I intend to take to make sure you depart from the mortal coil in no less than a state of total agony..."

"Oh, how very ominous." Desolas smirked, feeling remarkably calm as this being who could likely bench press a frigate approached with dainty footsteps that were somehow thunderous to his ears, drowning out even the gunfire still going on elsewhere.

He was determined to not give it the satisfaction, and contemplated the gun still in hand. While small and useless for taking on synthetics like this, it could put a round through his own skull most ably. An assurance downplayed by the knowledge that suicide would in conjunction with his prior statements would make it seem like he chickened out.

Therefore he ultimately made the decision to drop his pistol and spread his arms as if to welcome the dôji whose steps slowed noticeably at the display. "Do try and make my day, dôji." Desolas cheekily challenged.

"Okay." Slow nonchalantly said, adopting an expression that could only be described as a slasher frown as he prepared to pounce... before a sharp statement from the door caused it to pause.

"What is this I'm hearing about torture?" Pardonner snapped aloud as he made its entrance, scowling at the three of them.

"Go back to treating Nihlus, Pardonner." Slow growled without turning, "I've no need for sanctimonious rust where this beast in turian skin is concerned."

"I'm not arguing in the favor of the sparing of his life, only that you kill him without further ado." the Aspect of Patience replied sternly, its blue eyes fixed on Desolas as if staring through him, "It's nothing but a waste of our time to torture some witless pawn when we could instead browse through the contents of his cyber brain."

Saren looked like he was about to give off a biting remark, but he like the rest of them – including Desolas himself – froze at the last choice of words. "Cyber brain?" he asked in confusion.

"Huh, and what is this nonsense now?" Desolas scoffed.

Pardonner gave him a stern shrug, "So you haven't noticed that the kurozu went and performed brain surgery on you at some point – a process which evidently include a full memory transfer onto a piece of hardware, and a number of safeguards to make sure you'd never find any holes in the logic of your _partners in crime_."

"How do you—"

"I can see through your flesh as clearly as you can perceive light, Desolas." it boasted without actually boasting, its expression just as grim as it was before, "Beside bog standard military implants, you also possess a fully synthetic brain."

"That is not possible. Sovereign would never..."

"But it did." Pardonner walked past a bemused Slow who was now a spectator to a show it was supposed to lead, "In fact it only ever saw you as a tool, and equipped you accordingly – sufficiently so that not one alien could tell the difference, but enough that you would never turn on it, and never balk at what was being done."

Desolas' protestation died in his throat as he stood there and listened while he rubbed a talon against his skull, to find any indication at all that the synthetic was wrong. His previously maintained mask of defiance fell apart under a deluge of doubt of insecurity, and came apart when the confusion took hold and he tried to recall any event where he had let down his guard, and searched for gaps in his memory. The confusion transformed into blind terror when he wondered if such an event took place while he slept and dreamed.

It was in this moment that Pardonner shot at him a jab with all the spindly claws outstretched, and ran his chest through.

Desolas only managed to gasp as he slumped forward, his mind bloated with bewilderment and a desperate need for confirmation he would never get instead of the self-righteousness he first envisioned.

He fell so his eyes and those of the synthetic wound up not far apart, and found in the clear blue orbs no sympathy before the darkness took him.

* * *

Saren watched closely as the execution took place, and relished greatly – though a non-turian wouldn't really notice it – in the complete loss of smug contempt on his brother's face. Not even he in his distaste toward the deceased kin, however, could dampen the wave of unease beyond it when Pardonner promptly put the newly made corpse down on the floor and after a quick flex of his claws began to make incisions on the skull.

"Whoa whoa!" Slow exclaimed in startlement, "Wasn't that whole cyber brain thing a jest?!"

"No, there really _is_ a cyber brain in there..." Pardonner shrugged and continued to cut through carapace and bone alike, ignoring the splurts of blood as they occurred till he made a hole large enough to pull free a bulbous mass of metal and polymer.

Saren was disturbed by the sight, his mind running wild with the implications, filling his mind with questions more complicated than he could answer. Was this Desolas truly the brother he knew? Was he dead all along? If so... since when?

Did it happen after he saw the so-called truth presented by Sovereign? Or did the switch somehow take place right there?

Saren's mind turned in on itself, and he lost track on what happened for a while as he considered the matter. Thus, he did not notice when Slow bade for the geth he called 'Legion' to come, and when it and the dôji came to stand round the General's desk for all the time it took for Legion to create an interface between the uncovered cyber brain and the personal computer. It was only at nearly the point of success that Saren extricated himself from the maddening line of thought and hauled himself to join them.

"Oh, long time no see Saren! You're looking a little pale there..." asked Service, who he thought was not supposed to be here in this section of the facility until he noticed the open transmission complete with an image of the dôji who stood in an area that looked like it just barely held itself together, "Are you alright?"

"A can of worms was opened." Pardonner interjected, "I'd be surprised if he could shrug it off."

 _What does a bunch of worms have to do about this?_ Saren wondered, "Don't put words in my mouth. I'm fine."

The blue-eyed dôji nodded placatingly, "My apologies."

"Process at ninety-nine percent completion." Legion reported, its digits flying rapidly across the haptic keyboard. "Success imminent."

"Good to hear, Legion." Slow nodded in satisfaction, not an iota of his attention dedicated to the corpse sitting at his feet, "Let's get all the information on the table. Service, how's it going down there?"

"Much of the factory has been destroyed, courtesy of efforts on both sides." Service took a look over his left shoulder, "The kurozu fought purely to delay us from our course, to keep us out of this particular area. An underground docking bay."

"They have been transferring goods from here to someplace else?"

"Yep, but we do not have much to go on. The tunnel has been collapsed along with every warehouse connected to this place." Service slumped his shoulders in apparent regret, "We have no information on the products ferried out of here, nor the place this facility's connected to."

"Hopefully this cyber brain will fill in the blanks."

"Connection established." Legion told them flatly, its sole eye directed at the lump placed squarely on the desk, "Search initiated. Subject found. Compilation of information commencing."

"Put it on screen." Pardonner requested.

Saren grit his teeth as Legion carried this out and put up before their eyes a dizzying amount of data that all existed under a single name: "Operation Rainfall?"

The synthetic shook his head, "It's too messy... Legion, try to slim it down to objective, target, and payload if possibility allow."

Legion carried it out, "Correcting." and shortened everything to a number of files dedicated to those specific subjects.

Slow prodded at one on the haptic screen, and prompted the appearance of data on fully fifty planets, "Palaven, Aephus, Digeris, Sur'Kesh, Mannovai, Thessia, Lusia… There's a whole laundry list of targets here, each one planetary in scale. What do all these planets have in common?"

"Some of them are home worlds..." Saren growled as he stared at the various images, "Many of the rest are very well established core and fringe colonies with large populations."

"All of these are assigned focal points." Legion explained, "The military resources allotted to the blockades concurrently maintained are focused through these planets for greatest efficiency."

"Manpower, fleets, supplies, weapons, and so on. All dispatched to these planets whose authorities direct them to where they are needed." Pardonner observed, "You'd have a real organizational chaos on your hands, otherwise."

"Going by this," he continued, "it's fair to assume what the objectives are..."

"To cut off supply lines, and while at it damage if not destroy the administrative centers of the galaxy." Saren said in rising horror, "It could open up a giant hole for the kurozu to plunge through..."

"Indeed," Slow agreed, "Legion, what method will be used for this attack?"

Legion brought up the weapon in question, which at first glance seemed to be no more than a thin canister with a sharpened end. It activated the image, which caused the canister to sprout straw-like legs that allowed it to scuttle across even rough terrain until it reached a target and injected something into it.

Saren stared as this something spread through the target who promptly spread the contagion to another by means of a physical attack. It seemed like a delivery mechanism for a form of sickness to him, but he grew to suspect it was something far worse when he saw how the dôji reacted to the presentation.

What evil could this be to make them turn so pale?

"And I thought they wouldn't produce something like that here..." Slow looked almost physically ill, his voice trembling, "Oh, how could I be so blind?!"

Legion was the only one who stood unaffected, "We ascertain that there lie no fault in your optics, Aspect Slow."

"That's not the point." Pardonner hissed in exasperation, his eyes wide as he browsed away the image and focused on the data that accompanied it, "The payload made for this operation is made up fully of these stakes, millions of them. Of fifty assigned transports, they have managed to produce enough to fill the cargo holds of twenty-three that upon operation start will head to each their target planet and drop the cargo onto the densest population center available."

"And as if that's not enough... the nanotechnological agent is capable of self-replication."

Slow blanched, "This one can do that?!

Pardonner nodded unhappily, "I'm afraid so."

"I hear a lot of doom and gloom, but understand little of what's going on." Saren joined in, trying to make sense of what they're saying, "How bad can this be?"

"That would depend on how much time it's given to spread before the military intervene on an appropriate scale." the Aspect of Patience said with forced calm, "In the worst case scenario... we are looking at an unparalleled massacre where the butcher's bill will range in the billions."

"Not if we can stop them!" Slow agitatedly struck a curled fist on the desk, "If we can get to those transports before they're launched... Legion, do you have their location?"

"Affirmative." Legion complied, clicking, "Interception is at this time, however, not possible as all the transports listed are already on transit to orbit. Acting General Sepinur has ordered elements of the fleet to provide escort."

The following silence was positively deafening as every dôji present remained where they stood until Slow stomped to the wall and kicked it hard enough to split it. "Rust it!" he exclaimed, and continued as no one saw fit to stop the profanity, "Rust it to Hell!"

Service was likewise dismayed, covering the face with his gauntlets as he shivered.

One of them wouldn't have it. "No, we're not done yet." Pardonner growled, "Not by a long shot..."

"Agreed." the geth bobbed its elongated head, "We have reached Consensus. In the interest of allowing the blockade to continue its operation at maximum efficiency and thereby keep the enemy at bay, the geth will mobilize and intercept the transports wherever possible."

That statement went a long way to cause a bubble of positive energy to swell in the room. "Father bless all of your kind, Legion..." Slow exhaled in barely constrained joy, "We might just do this after all!"

"I'd hate to bring a damper on this mood," Saren spoke up, surprised but unwilling let the upswell of optimism take him, "but no one in Council Space will simply allow the geth to do as they like."

"You raise a good point. How about we broadcast everything we've learned here?" Service leaned toward the screen, "To the Citadel, the colonies about to get hit, and everywhere else. Many people might scoff at the footage, but some might not."

"And besides that, should some of the transports reach their destinations..." Désir could be heard muttering in continuation of that line of thought, "they cannot exactly say we didn't warn them."

Service winced, less than pleased about the lack of tact, "Right..."

"Good call." Pardonner pushed himself from the desk and smiled at them, "Legion, please call for the Normandy to come and pick us up, and while at it provide Tali'Zorah with the relevant data. Her father should be able to help in spreading it around."

"Understood." Legion gave them a nod.

"Once the Normandy arrives, we will commit to the chase ourselves. Legion, you along with ten platforms of your choosing may come with us. All other forces should begin withdrawal into the hollows and defend the Rachni Queen until the situation improves. Service..."

"All set here." Service looked away, eyeing Désir most likely, "Charges are in place."

Saren left them to it at that as he left the office behind. Not once did he spare a look at his brother's corpse and instead invested his attention on finding Nihlus. It did not take long to find him, sitting at one of the cubicles that were not put to use as a barricade. "Nihlus, you holding up well?"

"Up to and ready to be gone from this place." Nihlus rubbed a palm on his abdomen where the armor of his was punctured, "It'll be great to see the light of day again."

"You and me both." Saren said as he lent an arm.

Nihlus did not get to say much in response as he accepted the talons and was helped back onto his feet. It was only when they plodded forward that he offered a question, "How did your business with Desolas go?"

A tired sigh left him, "Right now... I would rather not talk about that."

"Fair enough."

* * *

 _Three days later..._

After the course of events referred to for posterity as the Battle for Peak 17 was concluded, General Desolas Arterius who was believed to have fallen in the line of duty was hailed as a hero across much of Council Space. But what followed this moment of honor amounted to days of confusion.

Not even an hour had a chance to pass before the footage of what took place in Peak 17 was released to the media by the Quarian Migrant Fleet and the Geth Consensus to the overwhelming shock and surprise of the galactic community. In this footage, information about Desolas Arterius and the Peak 17 emerged to horrific light that stood as a stark contrast to the official portrayal of the honored turian General and his activities.

It showed to the public a grotesque tableau of atrocities that boggled the mind, and was only punctuated by the reveal that the prototypes General Desolas promised would boost galactic cyber-security was in actuality a terrifying nanotechnological weapon purposed toward the mass murder of innocents.

Across known space, and on countless worlds, this inevitably caused heated controversies and riots fueled by fear and outrage to break out. A massed hysteria of insecurity where people grew unsure of who to trust and flocked to those with opinions that in prior days went against the grain. Two contrasting sides grew from this chaos, divided between those who dismissed the footage as an elaborate lie and those who demanded that the transports be stopped.

In this storm of conflicting views, the leaderships of every species were caught in the middle.

The result was a disjointed response when the various transports – each surrounded by a heavily armed flotilla – came under attack by marauding geth forces that through their sheer emphasis on bleeding edge technologies managed to catch up. In some cases they got through thanks to the intervention of local patrol fleets, while others went down in flames due to the lack of any such support, and while some managed to make it through by their own merit.

On the third day, public pressure had grown to great enough an extent that the various governments decided to demand the convoys to halt and submit to inspection.

None did, and the escorting flotillas turned on Council forces in open sedition, allowing the transports to survive and descend.

One of the planets to be approached was Illium.

The transport at this location entered the skies of Nos Astra, having just barely survived several hits by frigate-scale weaponry, and opened up every hatch to release its dangerous payload of countless sharpened spikes that spread across a wide area and drizzled daintily like hail toward the populous city below.

Illium only has a few shelters to its name and no dedicated mass-warning system because of centuries of continuous peace, and thus a large portion of the inhabitants were caught in the open, the luckiest of whom could be considered as those who perished immediately as stakes punched into their skulls. Panic broke out throughout the city as people became increasingly aware of the attack and fled to what cover could be found, and the hustle and bustle was replaced by a cacophony of screams that intensified as the stakes without immediate hosts sprouted legs after their unexpectedly light landing and scuttled at the unfortunates closest to them.

Thousands of civilians soon lay dead in the streets and adjacent structures, unable to stave off the fatally intent automatons that stabbed themselves through flesh and released released copious amounts of nanomachines into the blood.

A silence fell after as the creatures completed their grizzly tasks, and left those who survived to sob and to grieve with so many friends and families torn apart in the slaughter. Then the bodies of the fallen twitched and rose with a terrible hunger poised to sap Illium dry of life.

And that was where the true nightmare began as the number of victims grew into the tens of thousands and beyond. Law enforcement and armed gangs who were caught up in this chaos fought desperately to keep the growing undead hordes at bay, but pockets of them fell one by one, unable to cope with the hideous disparity in numbers that grew ever greater and spread like a virulent disease.

The massacre went on like this, just like it did on many other worlds at the time in spite of fervent attempts by local garrisons to contain the outbreaks while military forces from other worlds scrambled to reinforce them, and showed no sign of slowing down as a small ship, the Normandy, appeared in orbit, its crew fully ready to fight and provide what relief they can. Tali stood as one of few organics currently on the bridge, not far from the two turians she did not quite expect to see again so soon, and silently in her ample trepidation wondered if they would all soon get a taste of how Earth must have been like when it fell to the kurozu.

"Looks like we got our work cut out for us." she heard Désir mutter while he rubbed his gauntlets together.

Prazza nervously agreed, "That's for sure..."

Service gave no indication of having noticed the exchange as he came to stand by the ship's bridge crew, "Take us down to the Nos Astra Spaceport soon as can be done, helmsman." before he turned and addressed them all, "As has been outlined in our plan of action; we will secure the landing site and begin taking in survivors. Once well on the way we'll begin to thin out the undead hordes in earnest. The kurozu think this strike will help make the galaxy an easy prey, so it's our sworn duty to disappoint them! Am I right?!"

Tali joined in as everyone hollered their grim approval. A motivational could make all the difference, and this was no different. No matter her fear, it was time to get to work.

* * *

 _Author notes:_ I could have finished this chapter almost a month before, but I was delayed. Sorry about that. That said, we are coming up to a turning point, though there's still a way to go.

Answer to comments:

 _Guest_ : I'm unsure as to what question you mean, so I'll settle for saying that it'd be a spoiler.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Port of the Dead**

* * *

 _Location:_ Illium; Nos Astra.

Matriarch Aethyta wanted to go back home to Thessia and be with her daughter, but there was nothing else for it. An old ally contacted her five days ago, and in hope of procuring much needed support for their group's cause she who was the only one with freedom of movement went and took a flight to Illium, leaving Liara in Garrus' capable hands. All of this done in a hush hush, of course, as the agencies who are keeping a constant eye on them wouldn't take it kindly if they found out they are quietly attempting to drum up political support for when an opportunity to protest the war opens up.

But she knew deep down that it would be a long-winded and potentially fruitless process unless something huge happens. She left home with this heavy thought in mind, only to see the galaxy wracked by controversy a couple days later when a footage surfaced that took what was known about the battle at Peak 17 on Noveria and turned it completely on its head.

It provided such a contrast to what everyone knew of the situation that Aethyta had to fight with every measure of her experience to not snicker all the way to Illium at the sheer absurdity of it. With her spirit amply lifted at what most definitely should be a real game changer, she was able to continue her trip in relatively good mood despite the knowledge of where those transports – brimming as they are with a nanological plague horrific beyond imagining – are headed.

Full of confidence in the patrol fleets' ability to handle these plague-bearers, she arrived at Illium and upon her belated exit from the spaceport called for a cab on the nearest terminal.

For about a minute she stayed put and waited patiently before a bright red skycar came from the skyway and softly landed in front of her. Its canopy opened up to reveal a volus in a deep black pressure suit who nonchalantly addressed her with an air that told her he was similarly unworried about present events taking a turn for the worse. "Where to?" he asked, inhaling sharply.

"Nos Astra Exchange." Aethyta replied as she sat herself in the closest backseat.

The driver closed the canopy and faced forward, "Very well."

What followed was two hours worth of relative quiet, alone with her thoughts. It looked like her business trip would pass without issue, until a skycar some hundred feet ahead of them was suddenly hit by something from above. It veered dangerously to the left, trailed smoke, and fell like a rock. An exclamation of shock left the volus, "W-what was that?!"

Much to her dismay, Aethyta already knew the answer to that question, and cursed vehemently at what it meant for them. An answer to his question, however, could not be delivered in time as an object stabbed through the canopy and embedded itself in his neighboring seat.

It did not even take a cursory look to find out what it was, particularly as the stake-like object sprouted several straw-thin legs and scuttled toward the driver who in a fit of primal fear tried to bat it away.

"Away!" he wheezed, "Away!" as it forced itself onto him and heedlessly ran itself through his chest.

This in effect meant there remained no driver to fly the skycar.

Aethyta could do nothing for the volus who started to convulse violently, quickly dying to the horrid nanological concoction delivered by the stake. Consequently, bereft of other options, she used her biotics to tear off the canopy and jump, knowing all too well that she was more than five hundred feet removed from the ground. Therefore, to escape certain death, she eyed the nearest balcony and performed the lengthiest biotic rush of her life. It succeeded, but she in her panic overshot the balcony, rammed herself bodily through a set of furniture, then blacked out as she hit a wall.

Aethyta did not know for how long she was out, but when she woke and sluggishly went onto the balcony... and regretted the motion as she quickly found that hell itself has already made its home here. Nos Astra was on fire, the skyways were scattered, and the sky was alight with a multitude of distant screams to curdle the blood intermixed with scattered gunfire.

The screams unsettled her more than the rest, for many of them were silenced in short order.

Words failed her as she gazed across this scene of carnage, of streets filled with pitiful crowds of recently killed covered in blood and viscera. Many of them lacked the stakes, which could only mean the nanological plague has spread far over the time she was out of it.

"Goddess, how could this happen!?" Aethyta barely gasped as her horror receded and was taken over by cold anger, "Confound it...!"

That said a shudder ran up her spine and made her in an impulsive fit leave the balcony to find a terminal. Aethyta hurried through the apartment, and only paused when she came across a dead mercenary covered in the armor of the Eclipse. Unlike so many bodies, however, this person was not killed by stakes or the living dead. Rather, she had taken the coward's way out as indicated by a pistol held loosely in her hand and a bloodied hole in her helmeted head.

Aethyta sneered in disgust as she pocketed the pistol for her own use along with every last heat sink she could find before moving onto the next apartment where she found to her relief a working terminal. On it she quickly accessed the Extra Net, and through it sought for planets hit by this plague.

It did not take long to find a list, to which she let out a sigh.

Thessia has not been hit. The transport bound for it was shot down long before it was even in view of its target.

"Goddess..." Aethyta spelled out in a thin gasp of relief.

Now she could move on with her own safety in mind, and decided to set course for the nearest of what few shelters exist in this city. However, no sooner did she rise before a passing shadow drew her attention to the apartment's generous panorama. She glanced over her shoulder just fast enough to make out a slender frigate-sized ship as it traveled past. Aethyta did not recognize the design, but found no reason to care about such minor details.

Wherever it would land, it'd probably be a place far too distant for her to easily approach, so she settled on what she previously decided and went on her way.

* * *

Location: Illium; Normandy SR-1; en route to Nos Astra Spaceport.

Pardonner stood in place with his eyes closed as he waited for the ship to touch down, appearing perfectly calm in spite of his sense of unease. It would not be much longer, after all, before his claws would once again be stained with blood. That said liquid would come out of the undead made little difference to him as he strongly disliked the splitting of flesh outside the contexts of an infirmary.

For a trice he exhaled softly in an effort to make sure his digits held still.

"Hey." Service abruptly came to stand beside and nudged him, "I know it's really late to ask this, but I need you to do something for us."

"And what would that be?" he asked, glad for the interruption – though he did not show it.

The blue-haired dôji smiled, "Negotiate. A long-distance scan has been made of the spaceport and it is currently under heavy siege. Heat blossoms indicate that at least a thousand civilians are presently trapped within the terminal, and their defenses amounts to a few dozen personnel we suspect to be law enforcement."

"And the reason you want _me_ specifically to negotiate with these people...?"

"We'll be facing a huge number of frightened and stressed out civilians, Pardonner. You're more experienced on handling such than the rest of us." 'Us', meaning those of us who are dôji.

 _Maybe, but only relatively speaking…_ Pardonner silently remarked in a moment of silence broken only by a nearby cough before he responded; "I'll see what I can do."

"Great." Service clapped him on the back, "We'll be counting on you, then."

"We will touch down in two minutes, counting down!" helmsman Moreau reported aloud, "LZ looks mighty hot, though."

"Activate our point-defense and keep on going." Service hollered back, "There's nothing down there able to threaten a frigate."

The helmsman verbally nodded, a certain savage glee creeping in, "Aye, my lord. Taking us in."

Accepting this, Service turned to the crowd and waved, "Game faces on, people!" drawing in scattered chuckles as well as blank looks of bafflement. "Except for you, Pardonner. Give me your best stoic frown."

Pardonner relaxed his face into his most standard expression – except with a brow slightly raised.

To this an immediate thumbs up of approval was given, prompting him in turn to roll his eyes before he focused upon the airlock once more, largely inattentive to what went on around him as the ship unleashed its array of laser weaponry upon the undead horde below much to the predictable jubilation of the defenders until Mr. Moreau announced the success of their docking procedure and had the airlock and its cousin beyond open sharply.

The dock was a gaudy and extravagant to the eye, but its aesthetics was marred somewhat by the considerable lack of ships, and the nightmarish number of mangled corpses that lay in messy piles wherever Moreau did not land his shots.

Pardonner quickly hid a grimace at the stench of death already spreading as he stepped out of the airlock and after a near-miss on a particularly shredded body strode purposefully – ignoring the countless dead the best he could – toward the only barricade in sight, his gaze fixed on the astonished organics who put on display a nervous uncertainty rather than hostility, which could definitely be considered an improvement over the previous status quo. "Who's in charge here?" he queried aloud.

For the first few seconds not one among the defenders offered a reply. Instead there was a nervous shuffling about as they exchanged looks until a darkly blue-skinned asari stepped to the fore, her gaze distant and cheerless, "I am Detective Anaya of the Nos Astra Police Department. As of twenty minutes ago, I am in command. State your identity and intent."

"I am Pardonner, the Aspect of Patience, and I for now represent this military expedition sanctioned by the Dôji Kingdom, Geth Consensus, and the Quarian Migrant fleet." Pardonner replied, and though the claim was not entirely true it was close enough, "Our intention here is singular: To purge this city of the undead infestation. To that end we want to establish this spaceport as our base of operations. In return for your cooperation in this matter we will provide troops to aid in the protection of your charges, and treatment for however many wounded you may have."

Anaya to her credit was not taken aback – though it was likely attributed to the mental trauma she currently suffered from – but considered his words with the certain weight of one who has finally seen light at the end of a long dark tunnel. "One question, if you may..." she hesitated, "I cannot speak for everyone here, but I've watched the footage that's making its rounds. It makes you look like mighty upstanding people, frighteningly strong ones admittedly, but still... What I mean is... What I want to hear from you..."

The woman really grasped for the words here, but Pardonner did not mind and waited quietly.

"Erm..." Anaya continued nervously, "What roles did you serve during the destruction of your creators?"

"None." he answered frankly, causing some surprised murmurs among the officers, "We only emerged at the war's end when only one creator remained alive to our knowledge. That is to say we could not save them... but we can save you." Pardonner extended an open palm to them, "If you let us."

The detective locked eyes with him thoughtfully, chewing on what she just heard before looking to her subordinates. "Lower your weapons." Anaya ordered softly, "Sniper team, you too."

One of her subordinates was not so quick to trust, hissing, "Detective, you can't be serious..."

Anaya directed at her an icy glare, "What part of our current situation do you not understand, Officer Dara? If their intention is genuine, we're all but saved. If they intend to betray and kill us on the other hand, we'll die sooner than we expected to. Now lower your damned weapon so we can find out."

Properly cowed, the officer complied.

With a curt nod, Anaya turned back to him, "You have a deal. Call in that sweetheart brigade of yours and follow me."

"Much appreciated, detective." Pardonner curtly bowed, then climbed past the barricade and followed her into the terminal – past the reluctant officers who were in their trepidation quick to clear a way – soon as he gestured for the others to do the same. It did not take long before they walked in the midst of an intensely crowded setting where almost every space was full of people who had fled from the horrors outside, and knew they were protected by only the thinnest veil of security up till now.

Far more jarring, however, was the relative quiet atmosphere. A thousand people have crammed themselves into the terminal and yet barely anyone uttered even a word as they fearfully listened to the incessant cacophony of gunfire that echoed tremendously from the sparsely manned barricades, fearful of the possibility of one being silenced as it would spell certain doom for everyone here.

Said silence was only – haltingly – broken as Pardonner with small steps walked among them, and more so when his comrades followed suit, particularly in the face of the hulking Primes who as usual absolutely towered over everyone else. The reactions ranged from veiled hostility to a sense of desperate hope.

Pardonner watched the ocean of people with a critical mien, and found many wounded, including a salarian with a dark complexion and strange purple markings around his horns who had bound his left arm very tightly with a tourniquet, and discerned that said limb was infected.

That one needed to be handled, soon.

"You've managed to handle things well considering the state of things."

"Our station and the spaceport was far enough from ground zero that we could make preparation, but as you can see;" Anaya said, oblivious as to the specifics of what he observed, "we are short on everything but people – and all the ice you will need to break."

"We'll handle that in due time. For now, what is the status of your tactical situation?"

She sighed, and summarized bluntly: "In one word: Bad. Until now we've not had enough personnel with weapons' training for the number of barricades we have been forced to maintain. Any help you can lend in shoring them up would be great."

Pardonner nodded, "And you shall have it."

"I appreciate that. Get it done while I notify the rest of my forces." Anaya said, turning away to make the calls without even asking whether he would like to have a map of the facility.

Not that it'd be a problem. Pardonner half-turned and gave a thumb up to Service who responded in kind before he summoned Slow and Legion to the fore, the latter of whom was quick to produce a data pad through which information – most likely harvested from the facility database – he would split up their forces accordingly. Pardonner paid little attention to the details of it, however, as he moved on and took a long look around to find a suitable place for a makeshift infirmary.

Several candidate locations occurred to him, but in the end only one location was viable in full.

"Detective, can you send some officers to clear out the cafeteria?"

"Do you mean for a place to treat the wounded?" she supposed correctly, completing her calls just as the geth split up and in small groups scattered to their newly designated positions.

"Yes."

"Uh, sure. I hope you've enough medicine on your ship..."

"Not much at all, actually, but that will not be a problem." the blue-eyed dôji allowed himself a half-smile, "I have no need of medicine to treat those in my care."

Anaya had a look on her that plainly said she did not quite believe him. Still, she did not argue with him and through her omni-tool dispatched an order for a couple of officers to begin clearing the designated area, leaving him to gaze across the crowd once more and narrowed down his gaze when he found again the salarian from before whose dark complexion paled as their eyes met. Not even a trice passed before the alien fled out a nearby corridor.

That could be a problem.

"Sorry for the trouble," Pardonner pinched hold of Slow's beautiful kimono as he and two minor dôji alongside passed on the way out, "but could you do me a quick favor before you go and do whatever Service asked of you, Slow?"

"Why, of course." Slow graciously lifted an eyebrow, "What do you need?"

"A quick search & capture."

* * *

 _Five minutes later..._

The task hoist onto him was minute in importance compared to the duty of holding back the undead hordes, but Slow was not about to let a misguided soul become a casualty when it could be easily avoided. He would have preferred to not be led into a small maze, though, as he moved further and further from the terminal in his search for this one salarian Pardonner asked him to bring in for treatment, and thoroughly searched every room he came across until he found a window, where he could not help but pause in horror, watching as undead poured from gates and alleys in their hundreds, even throwing themselves to the ground from above, uncaring of the injuries sustained for doing it. Guided by one single overwhelming directive they charged toward the closest source of gunfire, constantly adding to a vast field of corpses like there was no higher purpose to their existence.

He was supposed to be out there, and on second thought should have relegated a meager task like this to a subordinate. But then again, no one else had his experiences in regards to the fragile species, which made him ideally suited for this task.

The problem was only... where did the skittish alien go?

"Wah!"

Slow twisted himself away from the grisly view just in time to see the salarian pull himself around the second closest corner. "Hold it!" he shouted, and broke into a dead sprint with his arms held out wide.

Not many seconds passed in the resulting high-velocity chase before he managed to get within five paces of the alien who was in turn fully determined to outrun him despite the futility of such a gesture. "You won't take me!" the salarian yelled over his shoulder, his voice and eyes sporting signs of delirium, "I'll die rather than be ripped apart!"

"You won't be ripped apart, I promise!" Slow spoke aloud, though he supposed the alien's infected arm was fit only for amputation, "The one you ran away from may seem hard and stern, but he is very gentle with his patients!"

"I don't believe you, machine, you must be lying!"

The salarian made an almost savage leap for a door ahead of them, and opened it only to find beyond it a horde of drooling undead that immediately hurled itself collectively at him.

"Get down!" the dark-haired Aspect snapped the order aloud, "Karakuri Henge: Deer Mouth!"

To his credit, the sickly alien dived at great speed and allowed him a clear line of fire he immediately used to blow both the closest undead, and the forty-eight shambling corpses behind it, in half – painting the next two hundred feet of ground in a bloody red in the process. Naturally the salarian was scared witless, and in a state of frenzy attempted to push himself away from the pile of gore, only stopping as he all but bumped into the dôji behind him.

Slow cocked his head as their eyes met, "Now be a good boy and follow me, or will I have to carry you?"

"G-go away..." the alien whimpered.

"That's not an option at this time." he replied sternly, pointing out the badly infected and increasingly dead-looking arm, "Your tourniquet will not hold the nanomachines for much longer. Either you come with me and get yourself treated, or you can stay by yourself and die to the plague."

Unfortunately his conversational partner was not willing to listen. "Help me, someone!" the alien yelled into the distance, "S-shoot this thin—"

"... I don't have time for this." Slow lost his patience there and delivered a precisely applied chop with just the right amount of strength to the alien's neck, knocking him out. Slow promptly collected the alien into his arms and made sure he was secure before he commenced a turn, followed by the abrupt appearance of an undead elcor that proceeded to crush many of the bodies as it charged at him like a maddened beast.

Or it did, that is, before its skull was punctured by several neatly placed shots.

"I did not expect to see you here, Aspect Slow." Kal'Reegar muttered as he strode past, training his rifle on the chunky corpse in case it tried to rise again.

Slow shrugged, idly watching as the other quarians came into view, "Was given an extra assignment."

"You should probably finish it fast, then." Tali'Zorah addressed him, her face fair enough that it was a shame that most quarians needed to wear helmets most of the time, "I hear there's a particularly huge wave on its way."

"I suppose there is." Slow whispered unhappily and left the quarians to it as they committed to the given duty of sealing up ever entry point except the barricaded ones while he hurried back to the terminal where a makeshift infirmary was already up and running with Pardonner at the center of several rows worth of patients who to the wondrous astonishment of a great many onlookers lay in place with looks of relative bliss on their faces as the presiding Aspect of Patience utilized his Noh, reducing their pain to nil without even touching them.

"I..." Anaya who stood foremost among the watchers, scratching her head in amazement, "If I did not see it for myself I'd be hard-pressed to believe it."

Pardonner did not respond as he examined the patients with wrapped attention until Slow placed the unconscious salarian onto a piece of open space, "You really had to knock him out?"

"In my defense," Slow sighed, "he was hysterical and refused to listen."

The fellow Aspect nodded in acceptance, "I see." and crouched down beside the downed alien, narrowing his eyes down as he scanned the infected arm, "Looks like you brought him back just in time. Another two minutes and the nanomachines would have managed to force their way past the tourniquet. Too late to save the arm, however."

"Suppose it was inevitable."

"Quite." Pardonner grimly grabbed the arm and transformed a couple digits of his other gauntlet into fine cutting tools with which he proceeded with the amputation, meticulously cutting around muscles and through ligaments without causing excessive damage. Such work usually led to a great spillage of blood, but his Noh made sure the stump closed itself into a fleshy nub at the same rate as he removed the infected limb. When he finished, there was no more he needed to do for this salarian aside from growing a new arm.

Whether he would find the time for it was, however, up in the air.

"The fool will probably not appreciate the missing arm when he wakes."

"Maybe, but it's better to have agitated patients than dead ones."

"True." Slow nodded in agreement, and looked up as a minor dôji sprinted into view and snapped a crisp salute.

"My lord!"

"Yes?" Pardonner droned without looking up.

The minor dôji swallowed, nervous despite his veteran status, "I have a message to you from Aspect Service." and lent him a data pad, "New orders."

"Hmpf." Slow chuckled, "Service must really be having fun with all that bossing us around, I bet."

"Easy to joke when you don't know the order." Pardonner groaned and crushed the data pad almost to powder in his grip the moment he finished reading, "Once done treating all the wounded I'm supposed to rendezvous with Désir and together make a run for the local shelters."

"His intent comes across as rather blunt, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." he dryly agreed, "Now if you excuse me, I need to check on the others – see if they're healing properly."

Slow watched him go for a trice before he dusted himself off in turn and grimly made for the exit as the raucous cacophony outside picked up in volume due to the probable arrival of the wave Tali'Zorah spoke of, flexing his claws all the while.

* * *

 _Fourteen minutes later..._

"What a mess..."

Not exactly how Service would have described the situation, but Désir considered it to be quite apt if admittedly a bit underwhelming as he paused in the bloodshed to look across this wide portion of the spaceport's exterior which was to begin with a scene of devastation before the addition of dôji combatants painted it almost completely red, given the sheer quantity of corpses that lay either scattered or in large ragged piles that stubbornly refused to stop leaking blood.

A persistent leakage that frightened and grossed out the paltry number of minor dôji at their disposal who could not quite get over how sticky the stuff was on top of how squishy organic bodies turned out to be.

Navi, one of the two minor dôji who were given to him startledly fell away from a particularly deranged-looking krogan who leaked silvery goo and blood freely from its mouth and numerous wounds – a sight that caused what was otherwise a veteran to curl up and whimper in fear till Désir sliced the upper half of the creature's head with a clean swipe and snapped harshly: "Get up!" he barked without a hint of the sultry tone he liked to impart on his speech, "Stop focusing on their faces and put them down! They are dead bags of meat, nothing more!"

The dôji soldier flinched at his angry voice, but obeyed, "Y-yes, my lord..."

"Hang back and cover me. Ranged configuration." Désir instructed them both, and listened only long enough for them to acknowledge, then raced against the horde that was continuously reinforced as yet more undead spilled out of the woodwork like those stories cooked up by the occasional fool of a suitor who tried to impress rather than entice. "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Cleaver." he hissed, transforming his right-hand gauntlet into a rather plain if large – though not to the extent of his Rabbit Mallet – bladed weapon with which he cut through the advancing crowd like so many straws, felling dozens before his charge slowed.

The other subordinate, Carl, soon piped in; "They're surrounding us again!"

Of course they are... There are so many bodies at work here and so comparatively little covering fire that many of the unnervingly mobile corpses are bound to get past and circle around behind them. Normally this would spell certain death for a small squad cut off from the main force, but what these wretches faced did not fit into that dynamic. They deliberately split from the barricades and entered into open combat specifically for the purpose of drawing away crowds that otherwise would have bum-rushed their more fragile allies.

Désir therefore lacked a reason to worry much other than to give his subordinates the order to go airborne – though only so high as to be just out of arm's reach – while he remained to face an increasingly crowded environment, full of disjointed screams and pounding feet where he waited until his personal space was pierced by many gripping limbs and gnashing teeth, at which point he brandished the cleaver and slaughtered them.

The air around him exploded into a hail of blood and limbs as he brought the weapon through them. Désir span, each startlingly graceful step translating into an orgy of indiscriminate violence where even the nearest vehicle was chopped in half alongside the undead elcor that was in the process of climbing past it.

In this manner he dedicated himself to the ongoing massacre up to the point of being caught in a trance, from where he was only brought when the dull sound of air support turned into an agonized cry.

Désir snapped out of it and gazed up at Navi who writhed and twitched, his fall only prevented by the arrival of Carl who came and grabbed him in the nick of time. That in itself was a relief, but the Aspect of Lust's attention was more on the fading strand of blue energy that the minor dôji had been subjected to.

Biotics.

 _Energy conservation be damned..._ Désir in a fit of anger brought up the cleaver, "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Mallet!" and used the resulting weapon to crush and smash aside hundreds of broken bodies, sending them flying across the area until the path onto a group of undead asari that randomly spat out biotic energy was revealed. The Aspect brandished his free arm at them, "Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Horns!"

He perforated two of them at once before the rest managed in a collective shriek to hurl him into what remained of the chopped car with bone-crushing force, from which further ruin he adjusted his aim and punctured the chest of his third target.

The biotic undead renewed their assault to once again toss him like a rag doll, only for their power to... fizzle out.

Désir raised a brow, but hesitated not as he summarily gunned down the rest. "Well, look who decided to join the party~"

"Had it been one I would have immediately left." Pardonner sighed resignedly as he gracefully descended on their position, eyes briefly on the hurt soldier in a trice of concern before he landed and with a quick grab at the elbow pulled Dèsir from the wreck. "Service sent you the new orders too, yes?"

"Of course, though I'm less than clear on the issue of where." Literally a third of the data pad sent to him was torn off when a krogan decided to try and eat it while he read. Suffice it to say he had to let a subsequent dissection fill in for what he did not pick up in time.

"It's fine. I know the way."

"Goodie. Navi, Carl," Désir regarded the minor dôji, "we'll be going on our own from here. Head on over to Service and tell him we're proceeding with our date!"

"Désir..."

"I meant to say... our mission, yeah."

"U-understood, my lord..." Carl looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it and carried the still moaning Navi away without ado. "Please be careful."

"Yeah yeah..." Désir replied dismissively before he and the colleague he desired left the blood-drenched area behind.

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

The chamber used for meetings outside of public view was silent as a tomb. Tevos wallowed in that quiet as reports trickled in from thousands of news outlets both regional and local to the worlds presently under threat by the selfsame nanological plague they were warned about. The respective nations worked to handle it as she sat there with Valern who was similarly quiet, waiting for Sparatus who had yet to come.

Ignorant minds would question whether they had the time to just remain like this, but beyond offering a statement there was very little the Council could do in this crisis beside watch the individual powers excise this plague from their interstellar bodies like poison from a wound. Galactic treaties could only be used as a cudgel for so much.

Tevos turned her gaze to the door as it slipped open to let Sparatus through. The turian colleague looked somewhat relieved, though it had a pointed edge.

"I just received word from the Primarch." Sparatus told them straight, "The plague outbreak in Hierarchy space has been contained."

"Which frankly does not come as a surprise." Valern remarked dryly, folding his hands together.

Sparatus graciously offered no response as he took a seat, mindful of the infestation on Mannovai. It has become so severe in so short a time that the Union has brought into consideration the option of destroying its infected capital utterly through orbital bombardment.

For a few seconds none of them said a word.

"... Where do we begin with this situation?" Tevos eventually asked, "Desolas turned out to be a traitor and a puppet, and everything he ever said now sound hollow to my ears. I remember how he refused to go to the late Benezia's aid at first, only to hang on to his every word afterward because we supposedly had genocidal machines on our hands, because I decided we needed to focus on the greater of several evils."

"We do have genocidal machines on our hands." Valern pointed out, "I am less sure about the dôji, however. They prevented a greater disaster by warning us, and beside the conflict surrounding Peak 17 and a number of brainwashing cases they have committed no offensive action against the galaxy at large. And then there's another thing..."

Sparatus folded his arms, "And what would that be?"

"It has come to my attention that an old corvette touched down at an STG base on Sur'Kesh a while ago, its crew made up of one krogan... and two salarians who till then were thought to be dead."

"Who?" Tevos asked, intrigued if nothing else.

"One of them is Captain Kirrahe, who commanded an STG counter-piracy operation on the planet of Ku'ron some time ago that was suddenly and inexplicably wiped out in a single night – which made no sense whatsoever in retrospect. The most noteworthy, however, was the other... one Mordin Solus."

"... I know that name."

Valern nodded, "Mordin Solus worked under Matriarch Benezia as her Chief Physician during their ill-fated expedition. We thought he was dead, but it turned out that a dôji on site protected him from both the machines and... an orbital bombardment Desolas called down..."

Tevos swallowed, "Valern... that dôji..."

"The same. According to Mordin's testimony, Desolas wanted him dead. The only reason he lived was because the dôji, 'Slow', stored him in a stasis capsule. Unable to breach it, he had both brought to Peak 17, from which they were freed by the geth. After that, the dôji escorted him to a jump-capable ship he then used to reach Ku'ron where he linked up with the good Captain, whose operation was then wiped out by mercenary forces sent by Desolas with the explicit objective of putting Mordin down."

Sparatus grimaced, "That incident... was it by any chance connected to the recent act of terrorism in Vaiv?"

"Indeed. Desolas enabled that one also, and for the same reason as Mordin and Kirrahe aimed to evacuate from its spaceport. We have confirmed as much from the krogan mercenary, Urdnot Wrex, who chose to defect and provide escort on grounds of suspicion toward his employer, which led to their appearance on Sur'Kesh."

Another moment of silence came about.

Sparatus sighed, placing the palm of his left hand against his face, "Do we know where the dôji who attacked Peak 17 are now?"

"On Illium..." Tevos offered on that front, "From what little the local garrison has managed to ascertain, they are currently conducting operations in Nos Astra which involve in part the defense of its spaceport which currently house several hundred civilians."

"So... thus far they have destroyed a kurozu-operated facility in our midst, exposed a high-profile General, provided intervention, and offered protection to civilians. Substantial prior transgressions aside, they are either aiming for a harsher blow further down the line, or they do not actually see us as their enemy. Which is it?"

There was no answer, and once again they lapsed into a shared silence.

"I can only think of one way to determine that..." Tevos said with a deep sense of solemnity she not often put on display as an idea occurred to her.

Valern narrowed down his eyes, "Yes?"

Tevos looked on her colleagues, her expression a sheet of ice, "By handing them a golden opportunity on a silver platter, though it could spell out a certain end for the three of us if..."

It only took Sparatus a few seconds to partially realize what her proposition would be, given the hesitation, "You... you aim to meet these dôji face to face?"

"I am aware of the recklessness of it," she overlapped one hand with the other to keep it from shaking, "but we have little time for dithering about because of the recent development. To be more clear, what I suggest is for us to call for a ceasefire, then offer free passage to the Citadel for a choice number of representatives for the conduction of negotiations."

"That is a dangerous plan, Councilor..." Valern commented, frowning.

"Would you rather leave this galaxy to guess and bicker over who is friend or foe?" Tevos asked honestly, "If we can determine once and for all whether they constitute one or the other, I am willing to stake my life on that possibility. In the best case scenario, General Victus will be able to commit his men and resources on the increasingly volatile kurozu front, and should the worst take place instead... the galactic community will know at least that the dôji are ultimately hostile."

Sparatus thought about it, "You make a good argument, Councilor, but let us say our governments allow such a process to take place... what guarantee do we have that the dôji will bite? They might well see through your plot and not act on the opportunity."

"That's a chance we will need to take, though I must add that up to a third of the galaxy believes the three of us are the undisputed rulers of Council space. A notion we can choose to reinforce until such a time that we are certain of their true nature – should they prove friendly." Tevos looked onto the turian who wore what must probably be the most thoughtful expression he's ever held, "Shall we take the dive and see where it leads?"

Sparatus did not take long to answer as he grimly looked into her eyes and provided a slight but fully accepting nod before he in turn regarded Valern who for a change was the one clearly outnumbered. The salarian councilor did not like the plan one bit, yet he did not argue and in the end gave them a reluctant nod.

And with that it was time to contact their respective governments.

* * *

 _Author notes_ : And so the path to the Citadel opens. That being said, I wanted to add one more segment, but it utterly refused to come together.

Answer to comments:

 _Guest_ : Thanks.

 _WarFlower_ : Thank you for all the reviews, and sorry for the wait. Much as I'd love to churn out chapters every other week, my schedule doesn't allow for it and I often run into snags that prolong the writing process.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Going to Town  
**

* * *

 _Location:_ Illium; Nos Astra; Spaceport.

This spaceport was full of holes.

Seriously.

It did not take long at all for Tali to lose track of how many doors and miscellaneous hatches they sealed off in their effort to close every last possible approach outside the fortified ones in-between the many infected they were forced to gun down, such as this group they just come across.

With shrill and throaty cries a mixed group of mostly salarians raced at them, displaying not even an ounce of caution as a wounded infected in their midst was run over and crushed beneath the pounding feet.

"Directing fire!" Tali announced as she brought up her pistol.

Kal shouted out a terse, "Assisting!" before he too joined in and expertly put down the infected, mowing down much of the opposing group while she focused on those not immediately in his attention.

"Get to work." Nao hissed to Prazza and Kefila as they started on the door not far behind. They did not have the codes needed to lock the entrances, but that could be worked around easily with the right know-how. "We'll have this ready for sealing in twenty seconds!"

Tali nodded, "Got it!" her attention directed forward as yet another group, a larger one this time, came around a corner and rushed them. A notable number of them were krogan, intermixed with a small number of elcor that huffed and growled in manic rage. Once again she fired, but this time applied more shots toward the cranium.

"Fifteen seconds!" the elderly quarian called.

Neither Kal nor herself offered a reply this time and cracked open crest after crest, digging craters into both flesh and bone to drop the infected aliens into large heaps to impede the others. Tali winced a little as an elcor whose face she shot repeatedly came to a shuddering halt, spewed blood, then managed a couple more feeble steps before the massive body collapsed.

"Eight seconds!"

Time seemed to slow, and each second felt like an hour. "Withdrawing!" she heard Kal shout out, and pulled back in order, not pausing as she continued to shoot.

"Five seconds!"

The infected continued to close in, the closer gap bought by the difficulty of putting down their heavy-hitters.

"One second!"

She and Kal finally pulled themselves past the entrance, upon which Nao closed the door. The infected tried to follow, but only managed to crash clumsily into the sealed entrance that might as well be part of the wall now.

"Good timing." Tali breathed, glad for that to be over, "How many more do we need to close?"

"This was the last one I think..." Kefila spoke up with notable relief, checking her omni-tool, "Yep, we're clear. It's time to hit the front line."

She sighed in relief, "Wonderful. If I ever get to meet the architect who designed this place I'm going to punch her in the face."

"Given the chance, I'd do the same."

"As would I." Nao agreed.

"No point wishing for something unlikely to happen." Kal muttered, hoisting his rifle, "Come! There's no time like the present!"

Tali would have liked to take a short break, but she and the others joined Kal and moved on to their next task. Namely to reinforce the barricade placed at the main entrance. She was not, however, ecstatic about it as it meant they would fight alongside a large pile of geth. None of them had any love for the synthetics who drove their ancestors to the brink of extinction, and accepted the current situation only begrudgingly.

Therefore she had only a look of distinct distaste on her face when they arrived, and with guns drawn took what openings were available in the barricade which was constructed from a large pile of furniture – primarily desks and benches. Tali wanted to ignore the geth, but found it impossible. Across the barricade fully eight of the synthetics stood lined up, shooting incessantly into the crowd outside in a manner that was entirely silent and detached. Occasional bursts of static came out of one or two at a time, but those too sounded unaffected by the carnage.

It was absolutely chilling to behold.

Did the geth slaughter her ancestors like that?

Tali shuddered in trepidation as she brought up her pistol and pulled the trigger on a disturbingly small asari who fell soundlessly with a geyser of blood erupting from her back, and with that was roped into the ongoing action where a distant part of her mind noted the horrifying number of corpses piled up, into which many more are constantly being added.

Even worse, a stray wind soon caused the odor of death to sweep through the entrance, pulling her attention to the amount of leaked blood and almost threw up as a result.

Desperate not to lose her lunch, the quarian focused all of her attention on the small handful of dôji out there who were more or less surrounded by showers of blood and gore. Normally such a sight, violence against organics by synthetics, would have filled her with terror, but the suffering looks put up by all of the diminutive synthetics helped prevent much of the nausea. They liked it no more than she did.

"Creator, take heed!"

Tali was about to snap a retort at the geth that had the gall to address her so flippantly. Only an unholy amount of self-control led her to respond with a heated, "What?!"

"We suggest that creator team relocate to the fourth barricade. Infected onslaught on that inbound vector has increased by two hundred percent. Prompt reinforcement of position advised."

Deep inside there immediately raged a short-lived war. Tali struggled at the notion of taking suggestions from a geth of all things, but relented as she forced herself to think of all the innocents huddled behind these walls. "Got it." she ground out with all the loathing she otherwise did not put to word ere she pushed herself from the barricade to gather her team.

They would at least be away from the geth.

* * *

Aethyta did not expect much from the shelter she headed toward, but hoped at least for it to be reasonably defensible as she all but stormed through yet another largely abandoned tower till she afforded herself a pause at a balcony to gaze down upon the parking garage below. It was built right on top of the shelter, and was like every other public space absolutely flooded with the living dead to the extent one could be excused for believing it to be completely overrun.

If not for the clamor of desperate gunfire coming from deep within its sub-levels.

On one hand she should be pleased to find a live presence, but that the people down there have elected to hold ground rather than seal the shelter set off all sorts of mental alarms. Aethyta considered the possibilities, and came to the conclusion that beggars could not be choosers before she withdrew a few steps and initiated yet another lengthy biotic rush that carried her to the upmost opposing floor and found it largely empty.

Aethyta looked into the scarce few aircars present and found them stuffed to the gills with undead that yawned and screamed at her. Instead of entertaining the possibility of an available aircar, she found the nearest staircase and advanced ever closer to the still-present gunfire.

Thirty floors below she came across a full family unit of undead that screamed as they brainlessly rushed her.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested!" Aethyta hissed as she hoist the pistol appropriated earlier and dropped the closest one with a shot to the neck. She did not flinch, and inflicted similar damage onto the rest until they were all motionless on the staircase. Morbid and filled with disgust, the Matriarch climbed past the bodies and continued on her way until she reached the right floor, and kicked its door open.

Unsurprisingly there was an ocean of corpses between her and a horizon of flashing guns lined up in front of a domineering circular door that was wide agape.

Some of the undead limply turned to scrutinize her dumbly.

Aethyta brandished her biotic powers and at once flattened them along with a hundred others. She did not wait for them to recover and dashed out, putting on display the entirety of her biotic talent all the while for the world to see. Dozens of bodies were smashed into the walls and an assortment of vehicles, and many more were made to twirl and flail at only air. She hurled the swarms away persistently until she could finally vault across the barricade and land among a number of uniformed asari who appeared to have advanced no further than the maiden stage, all of them eminently impressed before the continued undead issue forced them back onto task.

"Who's in charge here?!" Aethyta addressed them immediately, shouting over the din.

What answered her was an embarrassing silence that only ended when a youngster approached her and put on a shaky salute as she piped up. "N-no one is, ma'am..." the officer's voice trembled, "T-those of us here only managed to gather by the s-skin of our teeth, ma'am..."

"How many people are inside?"

"A-about seventy-eight, approximately..."

"Why isn't this door closed?"

"There's a malfunction, ma'am... W-we are trying to fix it..."

"Perfect." Aethyta growled as she looked across the barricade, made up mostly of aircars that were pushed into place with biotics. There appeared to be no more than thirteen officers here with a lot of corpses for company from goddess knows how many attempted breakthroughs – some of which came dangerously close to overrunning the perimeter if the number of bodies past the aircars are of any indication.

"M-ma'am, have you come to take command?"

"Did I just give that impression, officer?" Aethyta wondered, legitimately surprised. "I could, citing my sheer seniority, but I am no NAPD."

"If you would, p-please!" the officer responded in nervous affirmation.

"... Understood." she accepted reluctantly and took a long stringent look on the other crew, both those fighting and those who aren't, "All of you, listen up! As requested, I, Matriarch Aethyta, hereby take temporary charge of this situation! For its duration I expect complete compliance!"

The response came immediately from every mouth not immediately occupied, "A-aye ma'am!"

Aethyta to briefly continued to examine them, and found in their movement a form of relief and reassurance. These greenhorns truly needed leadership that they could not supply to one another due to their youth and inexperience. She gave a nod, more to herself than anyone else, and fell into the role she had accepted.

Not a moment too soon, as the undead massed for another assault.

* * *

 _Fifty-six minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Nos Astra Skyline.

"How many shelters have we checked out by now, seven or nine?"

Pardonnner did not answer as he looked over this colossal city, and the clusters of smoke that rose from more than a thousand locations – one of which had come billowing out of the last shelter they checked because it was made to self-destruct when an outbreak took place after its closure. The place was as devoid of the living as most of these buildings are now.

"They've all turned out the same and I doubt the rest are any better." Désir who flew alongside him verbally nudged, "How about changing our objective?"

"We've been over this..." Pardonner muttered rather flatly.

Désir scoffed, "Of course, but look at the mess over there."

He did not currently gaze at it, but could not ignore it try as he might. A whole sector of the city was completely ablaze due to military action. A part of the blockade imposed on the city by the planet garrison had come under attack, and due to the sheer scale of the infected tide they had decided to forgo all that resembled precision bombing and burned everything in sight.

The colleague continued flippantly, "We could do much better over there."

"Seriously, Désir." Pardonner shook his head, "What's up with you all of a sudden?"

"What's up with me?!" the fellow Aspect asked incredulously, "For all the effort to maintain the solidity of your stoic facade, Pardonner, your eyes have been tarnished by a terrible grief since we first got here. It's gotten even worse by every shelter we've visited, and I can't stand that!"

He stared, surprised by the tone used, "And what am I supposed to do instead in the face of such tragedy, smile and be merry?"

"Only that you don't let it mar your fairness!" Désir huffed and abruptly slowed down, "That being said, it looks like we've found a place that actually ain't a lost cause for a change!"

Pardonner struggled for a moment to understand whether that outburst was solely about his appearance or if the colleague was worried about him before he tossed that thought aside, following Désir's gaze to a parking garage awash with a swarm of infected that currently carried out a steady ingress toward a clear and present action. "Then what are we hanging here for?" Pardonner recalled the importance of this location and sharply dived for several hundred feet in a straight vertical line until he was barely a few feet from the infected-covered street where he upended himself and enacted a forceful landing that squished three infected underneath his feet, and staggered the surrounding crowd.

The mass of bodies moved like a singular creature as it reoriented to face him and in a roar of shuffling feet attempted a rush that brutally ended as Désir cut them down from above.

"Karakuri Henge: Rabbit Horns x2!"

Désir landed beside him right after, and showed no vacillation as he mowed the horde down – penetrating dozens with every shot unloaded. Focused entirely on emptying the immediate area of movement. "Go!"

"Okay." Pardonner growled and looked up at the building itself. For maximum accessibility this parking garage had a point of ingress on every floor – including ground-level. A feature that now worked against it. Satisfied with his observation, he made a dash for the ground-level entry point and dragged into place a large truck to block it – enough to at least slow the infected – before he made his way down, slaughtering the infected that stood in the way all the while with broad swipes of his spindly claws.

Disgust tinged his neck, yet he continued on and diced the undead aliens without distinction. Most of them were asari, with a mix of other aliens thrown in. Sharply he dismembered an elcor that made a fair attempt to trample him, and did the same with a number of slack-jawed turians – some of whom carried weapons none of them knew how to use anymore. One of the bodies was small enough that it nearly caused him to balk and stop. Pardonner gritted his teeth as the taste of disgust deepened and batted the drooling body out of sight. With every shred of concentration he focused upon the gunfight below, overlooked the splotches of blackened blood that stained his clothes, and kept on going till he through the bloody haze found the shelter's entrance ahead.

"Are you still with me?" he asked out in the blue.

"Just caught up." Désir whispered from what might well be inches away.

"Clear the area for me, please." Pardonner tried to swallow the disgust, struggling to mentally reorient himself for a more diplomatic encounter.

"You got it, my sweet. Try not to look so miserable."

He did not offer a retort, trying instead to shake off some of the sticky blood he was covered in as the awareness of it grew, "Easy for you to say."

Without a further response, the Aspect of Lust darted past and laid down such a withering hail of fire that even the vehicles were perforated, reducing the number of infected with such rapidity that it was like someone turned down a volume control. Between him and the defenders it did not take long for the infected to thin out.

Leaving him with the grim task of making contact.

* * *

Eventually quantity become a quality of its own.

Aethyta could not help but agree with the veracity of such a claim. It mattered not how well she led the motley crew of junior officers or how she put the age-given potency of her biotics to use, eventually they suffered losses – each of which they could not recover from – and were pushed into the shelter entrance where they fought with the madness of cornered animals in the face of impossible odds as the technical issue persisted.

The hope seemed to be all but gone when suddenly the horde before their eyes were flanked by an unknown force and summarily cut down like as much meat in a grinder.

Silence fell upon the area soon enough, once the last undead keeled over with a fist-sized hole in its chest. Aethyta watched it fall, and left the bulkhead to walk in the open, stepping over the multitude of bodies the place was practically paved with now – to take a look at their saviors. What she thought to see was a turian Jiris fighting vehicle, but instead came to stare down at the diminutive forms of two dôji, one of whom looked back up at her while the other probed the area for more undead to put down with gauntlets that hummed with recent discharge.

"M-ma'am, be careful!" the officer who has practically been like a lieutenant to her balked, hoisting her pistol.

"Lower your weapon, officer. We aren't in danger," Aethyta instructed immediately with a raised hand, regarding the dôji with pretty blue eyes closely, "though I admit to being surprised. I did not expect dôji to come to our rescue."

"Given the opportunity we would have informed you ahead of time." the dôji she knew already by name thanks to her daughter said formally, pointedly not looking at his stained clothing, "We have established a presence here with the intention of safeguarding survivors and clear out the infected. In accordance to this aim, the two of us have gone around to check the local shelters and render assistance as needed."

"And how are the other shelters?"

"... I'm sorry to say, outside of your own, all shelters have fallen to the infection."

"I had a feeling the others wouldn't so lucky." Aethyta cursed beneath her breath, then called back into the door, "All of you grunts, retake lost ground while it can still be done! Move it!"

"A-aye, ma'am!"

"Is there a reason why the door has not been closed yet?" Pardonner asked, watching for a few seconds as the eight surviving officers came from hiding in a loping run.

She scoffed, "Technical failure. Our pathetic excuse of a technical expert's still ass-deep in working to solve the problem."

The dôji cocked his head slightly in thought, "I see. Would you mind if I help speed up the process?"

"Hm." Aethyta tossed a quick look to the junior officers, who watched over their shoulders in faint trepidation – not so quick to trust synthetics with this kind of firepower. The question also hovered in her mind whether she should introduce herself as Liara's mother, but the timing for it would be seriously bad. "With all this shit going on I'm not at all opposed to accepting your offer, but you will have to accept an escort."

"That is acceptable."

"Good." she tossed a glance to the nearest officer, "Show him to the shelter control room and make sure to keep an eye on him."

"M-ma'am?" the officer balked at first, but with a narrowing of the matriarch's eyes she straightened up, "Y-yes, ma'am! At once, ma'am!"

"Once is enough. Get moving."

"Yes!"

The dôji curtly bowed, "Much appreciated." before he with the young asari in tow strolled into the shelter.

Which left Aethyta and the others in the company of this other dôji who so far hasn't uttered a word, though his appearance aligned with the descriptions laid out by her daughter. Her time with this one had been a little shakier than with most of the others she met. Aethyta thus had little idea of what to expect. Several minutes of relative silence passed while the undead continued to slaver about outside, audibly massing near the ground-level entrance where they hungrily pawed at a possible barrier of some kind. She did not expect the calm to last for much longer, though, and directed what little manpower was available to her to realign the vehicles and stack the bodies until the quiet was broken.

A terrible screeching noise resounded from upstairs as the physical barrier was finally pushed away.

"Take your positions!" Aethyta cried out as the slavering undead hordes moved in, and was about to take her own when the thick shelter door suddenly roared into motion. She was, however, less than pleased with the quickness that it labored to seal off the interior, and was about to use the channel provided for her earlier to connect with the interior when Pardonner leaped out.

"The problem required only a measure of brute force, but there's issue still." the dôji quickly explained, his words veritably a blur, "All of you get inside! It's set on a time lock, so it can't be reopened before tomorrow!"

"We can't, not so quickly!" Aethyta saw clearly that it would close itself long before the most distant officer could get in. She had more than enough time to make it, what with her biotic skill, but what kind of precedent would that set, to abandon these maidens just to save herself? "Can't you hold it open?"

"I could do that, but it'd break the machinery."

The matriarch cursed under her breath, "Shit!" watching as the door was about to close the remaining gap.

"If you will," the pink-haired dôji abruptly interjected, "I know one way to handle this situation."

"Whatever idea you have, Désir," Pardonner whirled to face him, "do act on it, swiftly!"

Désir hummed, "Okay, first off..." and to the complete surprise of everyone in sight proceeded to pick up and hold him in the manner of a bridal carry.

"Eh?"

* * *

"In you go..."

Désir had managed to catch Pardonner completely off-guard, and used the opportunity for all that it was worth as he turned to the closing door and unhesitatingly tossed the fellow aspect into the shelter just in time for it to be sealed off. A move that surprised the asari trapped outside into speechlessness as they stared at him, and at the door as it shook from a punch.

"Hey!" Pardonner irately shouted from inside, "What the hell was that?!"

"You had that look again, Pardonner." he was resoundingly calm as he approached the entrance and leaned in so his forehead touched upon its cold surface, "That heavy-lidded look you wear when you're sad."

"That is—"

"—Irrelevant? I told you I can't stand that look," Désir said glumly, "where you appear somehow sadder than when you stood before Arcanite's casket."

"..."

"Like most dôji you hate killing organics, I know, but it's getting to you overly much. So take a moment to clean yourself, guard those in there with you, and relax. I who possess little in the way of compunction will do a big cleanup in your stead."

"Désir, there's no need for that."

"On the contrary, Pardonner, I would gladly move mountains with mine own claws if the act could avert even a sliver of your grief. So please, don't be sad, and wait for my return."

Désir smiled as he pushed himself from the door and listened to how the infected continued to encroach. There remained a while before they would arrive here. A time he would wisely spend as he approached the matriarch next. "Matriarch, mind if we have a word."

"W-what is it?" Aethyta managed to finally say, hiding the shock at his decision by folding her arms.

"I could not help but notice how quickly you adjusted to our presence when we met."

"Does that truly matter right now?"

Désir quirked a brow pointedly, "Oh, It matters to me~"

The matriarch frowned, then nodded, "Yes. I know you from my daughter, Liara T'Soni."

"You're her mother?!" his eyes widened incredulously, "I thought there might be some relation, but did not realize you're so close. Is she doing well?"

"Indeed, and I recall from her recounting that you attacked her."

"After I was told to apprehend her and those with her when they chose to run from Pardonner's tender care. But to my defense, I put not even a claw on your daughter."

Aethyta's voice was cold as ice, "True, but you did beat down Garrus."

"I got a bit carried away..." Désir admitted, though he shrugged. There was not an ounce of his being that was interested in how this conversation developed, "That being said, it's time to move to the second part of my plan – to which end I need the cooperation of you and you alone~"

"My cooperation?"

He offered no direct answer and while he scratched his cheek absently observed the number of asari waiting nervously for the oncoming horde, "We should probably have your people fall back to the door first. The shelter and its immediate surrounding's a hardened location so they should be safe there. Once you've done so, come after me and together we'll thin out the infected horde."

The matriarch was baffled as was her right, but time was far too short for the handing out of more concise details as the infected rounded the last corner and with a collective scream to curdle the blood rushed claws-first for the flimsy barricade.

"Just do it." Désir gave a savage smirk and detached two claws that transformed quickly into two massive batons before he with those in hand, complete with a burst of energy to his thrusters, charged through the flimsy barricade and struck into the swarm of undeath with the force of a super-heavy truck.

Sprays of blackened blood and limbs alike flew in a spectacular fashion as he brought the batons through dozens of what he could only consider as prey given the difference in strength, crushing several screaming bodies with every swing as the infected attempted blindly to contest him. Désir watched as the corpses he struck flew apart like he had used a bladed weapon, their bodies torn apart and flung away with pulped flesh and many shattered bones.

There came some covering fire to his mild irritation, but those ceased in short order as Aethyta hesitantly had her people fall back.

Slightly did he nod at that bit of progress, and continued to relentlessly smash infected by the dozen until a tremendous wave of blue energy washed past and hurled much of the horde away.

"I've done what you told me." Aethyta growled as she suddenly appeared next to him in a blast of blue light, rubbing her wrists in barely restrained agitation, "What now?"

Désir licked his lips with great anticipation as he sauntered to stand in front of her, eyes fixed on the infected as they struggled to free themselves from the effect of Aethyta's biotics. "Why, you must go ahead and place a hand upon my back."

"That's it?"

"Not all of it, but I suppose you will see~"

"What will happen to me?"

"You'll live."

Aethyta audibly wanted to ask more questions, but her biotics wore off finally and allowed no further time to deliberate. Thus did she place a hand covered in faint calluses from a long life full of apparent conflict upon his naked upper back and gasped as his body stiffened.

/:Initializing:/

...

/:Dôji/Organic Connection Detected:/

...

/:Initiate ICON Mode:/

/:Proceed:/

...

/Yes – No:/

Désir gave his response immediately, every ounce of his being humming in approval. All that remained after that was to revel in this opportunity as he initiated his ICON mode for the very first time and gained tremendously in power as a delightful consequence. Aethyta shouted as a continuation of her prior surprise as he opened up and shot out tentacle-like appendages that latched onto her body before his own changed, swiftly expanded, and embraced her. The infected horde did not even last for an instant as the resulting ICON mode rose through the ceiling like it was made of paper and caused a great part of it to break and crash down on them. A fate similarly shared by those in subsequent floors as Aethyta assumed control and in a fit of confusion lashed out and devastated a large portion the tower that now seemed even more fragile than it did before.

Good thing the shelter was hardened or this would have gone badly for it.

Such details aside, they promptly burst out of the tower like a monster from its egg and sent many tons of debris raining into the street and neighboring structures, squishing a large portion of the infected that had yet to enter the parking garage.

"Oh, what delicious carnage~" Désir commented wetly, his vision split between the eyes of his glorious ICON and the cockpit within where Aethyta hovered and examined the asset she had just gained in astonishment.

/:Karakuri Henge Complete: Dôji Combination:/

...

/:Demon Désir:/

He subsequently purred to his impromptu pilot, "Now, what shall we do with this?"

"Is that a trick question?" Aethyta took a deep breath and asked, her voice trembling as she raised the vastly enlarged gauntlets now hers to control. There was a sliver of barely restrained glee in her voice, and this pleased him.

"Does it matter?" Désir echoed her earlier question, grinning on the inside.

"Cute." Aethyta gave a little smirk of her own, "Well, if you insist, I'd say it's time to shake things up!"

* * *

 _An hour later..._

 _Location:_ Illium; Nos Astra; Spaceport.

Service sighed sorrowfully as he looked over the spaceport's perimeter, now completely motionless after the wave assaults stopped some forty minutes ago. Another might well be on the way, but for now the organics within the spaceport took it upon themselves to get some much needed rest, so physically and mentally drained a few of them did not even notice the battle had ended and continued to shoot until told to cease fire.

The minor dôji did not fare much better, though. One of them in particular sat and trembled in a corner, trying to scrub away the blood splattered onto his clothes with an increasing degree of desperation.

Luckily another was there with him, gently trying to comfort the poor soul.

Saren and Nihlus on the other hand managed to get through it just fine and presently chewed on some dextro snacks while they watched the blood-soaked perimeter from atop a barricade.

"Say, doesn't it look like things are getting rather intense downtown?"

"In what way?" Service looked up to the Aspect of Diligence who stop atop of the tallest nearby building and gazed toward the city's heart.

"A tower just started to fall over."

That piece of information brought him pause, and encouraged him to fly up and set down next to Slow just in time to see a very distant skyscraper fall over like someone just shattered its foundation. Distant enough that he could only barely make it out, and the domino effect it was about to cause. The city map will need to be redrawn soon at the rate it's going.

"Did the local garrison do that?" Service queried as he strained to listen to the explicit chaos in that direction, and noticed there was something odd about it.

The colleague shook his fair head, "No, I get the sense the battle over there's very concentrated. As if carried out by a single combatant. Either there's a Deus ex Machina on the loose, or an ICON."

"You know about the ICON mode?"

"I thought you'd ask what that was." Slow commented, sounding almost disappointed, "I entered mine own back on Mars."

"That early, huh. Lucky you." Service grouched, and kicked a conveniently placed empty pot off the roof – crushing the skull of an infected that just happened to appear at that moment without knowing it.

"You'll get your turn eventually. Anyway, it can't possibly be a Deus ex Machina..."

"The only ones out there are Pardonner and Désir. Who of them could it be?"

They promptly exchanged looks. To say the question had an obvious answer was an understatement.

"Désir?" Slow asked wryly.

Service mentally slapped himself, "Désir."

"Should we join in?"

"Not before we're sure there are no more waves coming this way."

"The city might well be gone by then."

"Can't be helped, though I suppose we can while at it try to scout out our organic friends. Must be at least be two of them who are willing to pilot us."

Slow chuckled, "Aye, we can do that. I only hope his mess won't cause complications abroad."

"It probably will..." Service sighed, slumping his shoulders. "Which leaves one question... Why in the world hasn't Pardonner reigned him in yet?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure at least that Désir wouldn't go and stuff him inside a place from which he cannot break out of for some reason – like one of those shelters you sent them to check out – for the sake of shielding him from the bloodshed before he went out and..."

A moment of incredulous silence lapsed between them.

"He totally went and did that, didn't he?" Service deadpanned.

Slow drooped, "Yeah… who was I trying to kid?"

* * *

 _Two hours later..._

 _Location:_ Atapo System; Sephraic-Class Battle and Supply Station "Endless Vigil"; CIC.

One would think the entire galaxy was in a state of chaos given how everyone clamored about the nanological plague, but Adrien knew better. The outbreak while terrible was not the end of the world. It would run its course and be dealt with in due time. There would, admittedly, be some far-reaching consequences, but nothing catastrophic.

The decisiveness with which the outbreaks on turian worlds were handled gave him little reason to think differently.

What worried him far more had nothing to do with the plague, but two other matters. One which was dropped onto his lap when the Council tasked him with the forwarding of a ceasefire to the dôji after a fierce debate in the major governments concluded in its favor. Adrien did not like the idea at all to allow the dôji anywhere near the Citadel, but completed the order dutifully nonetheless as he was not anywhere sufficiently high in rank to refuse an order from so far overhead.

A frigate was dispatched to deliver it, and reportedly the dôji responded in the positive. The troops fighting on H-1-4 were consequently less than enthusiastic about the ceasefire order, but as of now there's an uneasy peace in place. Adrien shared in that unease, particularly when he learned that no one have heard from General Corinthus for some time.

 _Captured or dead, which is it?_ Adrien thought without letting the concern for his old friend be showed as he stood fall in the CIC – surrounded both by his equals in rank and a small sea of subordinates – and waited silently.

"Sir." XO Abalus verbally prodded him, his tone flat as always, "We are getting an activity spike from the relay."

General Adrien gave a grim nod, observing the haptic image of the distant mass relay connected to the H-1 System as the fleet carrying the dôji delegation finally came through. The drone they used to observe watched attentively as a cluster of thirty-two frigates of various types came through the relay in packs of four, followed seconds later by six cruisers arranged into groups of two. For several moments these probed the nearly emptied system – occupied by no more than the 68th flotilla and the aforementioned drone – before two more ships came through.

One of them a dreadnought.

And a massive vessel three kilometers in length.

"Is that a warship?" he heard this question most clearly among the whispers that erupted from the non-turian personnel.

Abalus did not lose his head for even a moment, "General. We are being hailed."

"Put them on screen." Adrien appreciated the discipline, but was taken aback as the image of fleet and stars was replaced by a ship's interior – complete with two dôji he recognized immediately from their constant participation against his forces. _The councilors are going to shit_ _thresher maws_ _when they find out_ _about this_ _..._

"Greetings, General Victus." the flame-maned one whose code name was 'Jailor' beamed as it approached by a step, positively diplomatic in its manner, "I am Ultimo, Grand Aspect of the Dôji Nation."

The gruffer of the two – known as the 'butcher' – did not come closer and glared with folded arms as if it contemplated how to climb through the screen.

"And this is my colleague, Vice. " Ultimo cast to the other an oblique glance, pouting mildly before its lips settled back into a formal smile. "In accordance with the ceasefire, we, the two of us, will negotiate on behalf of our people."

"Understood." Adrien replied in a tone he kept carefully void of hostility, mollifying the gruffer dôji very slightly, "The 68th flotilla stand ready to provide guidance and escort you safely to the Citadel."

Ultimo inclined its head, "I am glad to hear that, General."

"However, before you go," he activated his omni-tool, "I need an answer to a question that has troubled Council Space for the last few hours."

"Yes?"

Adrien brought up and presented the image of a three stories tall giant with a large spherical hail, long ear-like appendages, and a face-plated helmet. It towered over a collection of crashed vehicles and blasted away with a gauntlet turned into a skull-like effigy, its skeletal jaws surrounding a gun larger than that of a heavy tank. "What is this?" he demanded.

"That..." Ultimo leaned in more closely to observe the image, its green and red eyes wide, "That is a dôji aspect in ICON mode."

"ICON mode?" Adrien questioned for an explanation, surprised by the direct honesty.

"A full-body transformation we need cooperative organics to use." Vice drawled disinterestedly, its voice laced with boredom. "Nothing for you to worry your scaly head about. We aren't about to go and give you a grim reminder or anything..."

"Sufficient to say, it won't be a problem – we promise!" Ultimo rejoined, appearing rather exasperated with its compatriot's mannerism.

"What about the pilot?" Adrien queried solemnly.

"Safe and sound." Ultimo claimed readily, and moved on, "That said, may we proceed?"

He wanted to take no chances and decline, but had no such authority. All that could be done was call ahead, pass on what he just learned, and recommend a general bolstering of security – just in case. "Go ahead, Grand Aspect. Just be aware that any explicit deviation from the course laid out by the 68th will not be taken kindly."

The flame-maned dôji nodded, "We are aware of this, but thank you for the reminder. Have a good day."

 _Have a good day, hm..._ Adrien thought to himself as the transmission closed, "Abalus, keep watch for me. I need to contact the Council."

"Yes sir."

* * *

 _Twenty minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Brahmastra-class Dreadnought "Endymion"

"... Why did you not go along with them?"

"Are you really asking me that question, Rage?"

"Indeed." the Aspect of Wrath growled as he stood a respectable distance from Milieu who lounged on his side, casual in posture yet with a strangely thoughtful expression like he placidly scrutinized something far in the distance.

Milieu looked up to him, his response pleasant enough, "Sit down for me, would you?"

"Okay." Rage did not protest and eased himself down, clasping his gauntlets together.

A brief silence followed, tense enough it caused the Aspect of Wrath to involuntarily swallow. "You asked for my reason, Rage," Milieu started as he absently tapped a claw against the floor, producing a clicking sound that resounded across the chamber, "Do you believe I have ulterior motives beyond the most obvious one?"

"Back in the emergency session started in the wake of the ceasefire offer's coming, I felt like something was off." he tried hard not to fidget, "For all of it, even when you made the final decision on the delegation's composition, you did not heed for a moment those who argued that you would be more suitable for the task than Vice."

"You were among them, as I recall."

Rage grimaced, hating the unease he could not quite put down, "Yeah... I respect him and all that, but he does not have a diplomatic bone in his body. So I would like to hear your reasons, all of them."

"Reasonable enough." Milieu stopped the tapping and rose, sitting himself upright, "Its a rather moot point now, Rage, but I suppose I can lay them out for you."

"Please do."

"I made the decision based upon three reasons." the Grand Aspect said evenly, indicating those with three raised claws, "First, the most obvious one, we needed one of us to remain behind, just to be safe."

Rage nodded slowly.

"Second, I will as of yet not allow myself to be surrounded by organics. Any of whom could very well attempt by accident to make me enter my ICON mode."

That reason would undoubtedly sound speciesist to anyone ignorant of the famously named _Hephaestus Incident_ where Milieu experimentally had a turian prisoner initiate said ICON mode; Universal Milieu. The ultimately failed experiment cored a planet. Even now Cabeiri was a sight to behold with that huge hole in it. Rage felt distinctly absurd as he thought about it. No wonder Milieu wanted to be nowhere near the Citadel.

"Third," Milieu continued, "I chose those two for the explicit purpose of an experiment. As for the details of said experiment, you'll just have to wait and see."

"An experiment?" Rage parroted, inclining his head enough for his pompadour to obscure the Grand Aspect from view, "What the hell for?"

"It's a necessity based on no more than a theory... and a premonition of mine."

"Will you absolutely not say more on the issue?"

"Only when the time comes – if it comes." Milieu said cryptically, and pointed toward the door, "Now I believe you should return to the surface. Make sure no one breaks the ceasefire."

"... Fine." Rage hesitantly complied as he stood and left to make his way down to the shuttle he came on, but stopped just short of the elevator when a sudden epiphany struck him about one of the things Milieu said. The ceasefire deal, as he recalled, would allow a limited – if extremely heavily guarded – access to a communication buoy the blockade will soon put into place to allow observation of the course of events on the Citadel as they unfold. Rage snorted as he boarded the elevator, "Wait and see, indeed."

* * *

 _Author notes:_ Here we go, at long last, another chapter. A little bit of bouncing from here to there, but oh well.

Answer to comments:

 _jetslinger333_ : The accusation of brainwashing does actually hold some water. That said, Vice might just go the length to give more than a few aliens ample reasons to break into cold sweat.

 _WarFlower_ : Not much geth interaction in the chapter, but there was only so much I could squeeze in.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: The Citadel**

* * *

 _Twelve hours later..._

 _Location_ : Illium; Nos Astra.

The shelter into which Désir had so frivolously tossed him was a drearily silent place with so few souls within its hardened walls. Large enough to house many thousands of cowering colonists, it was much akin to a black hole in how it swallowed every sound whole.

It did not help much that what few defenders these had were locked outside.

Pardonner himself was not of much relief either even when he tried to tend the injured. All of the diplomatic experience in the world doesn't help much when confronted with deeply frightened people who lend more an ear to the emotional side of themselves than any adherence to simple logic. A perfectly normal reaction for most people – particularly civilians – given how close they came to be overrun.

Mindful of that, he completed the self-imposed task in a stoic and non-intrusive manner before he returned to the massively thick front entrance and seated himself next to it. To wait for the next day to come when it would be unlocked. To pass time he took naps and listened to the ongoing war outside as it grew more distant. Also he considered the matter of Désir who sought to spare him from further slaughter.

An effort he quickly ended as only irritation was born from it. Pardonner sighed, his lips pursed, as he leaned against the door's cold surface.

The distant thunder of war continued to rage, while he could do little but count the minutes as they passed. "Mr. Robot?"

"Dôji, I beg your pardon..." Pardonner kindly, his tone soft, as he set his gaze upon a nearby corner from where an asari child partially hid and peered at him with a glitter of curiosity all but bare. The child shrank away by an inch, but mustered the courage to stay rather than flee.

"Mr. Dôji..." she addressed, "Are... are all the bad guys gone?"

What an innocent question. "... They are still out there, but nowhere near right now. A... friend..." Pardonner elected to use that word over 'colleague', and faked a cough before he repeated; "A friend of mine's keeping them away."

The young asari seemed to note his hesitation, "A friend?"

"Y-yeah..." he struggled not to grimace, "A rather foolish friend, but still a friend..."

She cocked her head, "Foolish?"

"Indeed." he suppressed the urge to huff, "The bloke put me in here and ventured off to throw away all those 'bad guys'. All for the purpose of impressing me, to keep that violence out there away from me."

The little girl's bright eyes widened, "Just like in fairy tales!"

Pardonner blinked, "Um, that's..." caught off-guard by that enthusiastic outburst.

"That sounds really romantic, I say! It really does!"

"I... I suppose so..." the Aspect of Patience unexpectedly found himself on the backfoot as he was caught up in the thinking of this little child. Désir's advances were usually those of a playboy, which has never worked. This time, whether the Aspect of Lust realized it or not, he changed tactic and assumed the role of a gallant hero, which was to protect the object of his affection – much like that of typical hero archetypes in classical tales.

Such an approach, he did not expect from that horny rabbit.

The moment between them was interrupted as an obviously worried mother called out for her daughter. "Deneara, Deneara!" A guess proven correct when a tall asari entered the picture, tossed him a worried look, "Deneara, you get back there with me this instant. No talking to the synthetic..."

The daughter was not so easily dissuaded, "But mom!"

"No buts, come now!"

Regardless of her refusal, the mother plucked her daughter from the floor and hurried to leave with her, though not before the little girl managed to wave, "Bye bye, Mr. Dôji."

"Bye bye..." Pardonner offered a little wave, seeing no reason to get in the adult's way. Any anxious dôji father would have done the same in the name of his child's safety. But that being done, he resigned himself to a continued wait for the door to be unlocked when suddenly its time lock expired with a deep clunk. The dôji sprang up and called through the shelter's intercom system for the door to be opened at once.

The people up in the control room were probably glad to potentially be rid of him, so it did not even take a moment before they had it swing slightly agape – providing just enough room for him to squeeze his way out. A motion he halted in when he was almost out and spotted the officers who were locked out, huddled in a corner and caked with copious amounts of dust.

Furtively, both physically and mentally exhausted, they looked up at him.

"Ladies, get inside and be quick about it. The people in there won't let it stay open for long."

With a hurried word of gratitude, they – once he moved out of the way – scurried inside much like a pack of rats trying to find a way off a sinking ship.

It occurred to him, just as the thick door fell shut once again, that he should have asked which way Désir and his choice of pilot went, but supposed he would find them simply by following the destruction left in their wake. The parking garage, for one, was a complete ruin to the point it only just barely did not collapse wholesale. Pardonner started up his boosters and at speed cleared the wrecked building to gaze upon a heavily damaged street with no sign of movement, and an ocean of corpses in various states of disintegration, liquidation, and dismemberment that stretched toward the city center.

Pardonner followed it and the footsteps diligently, and noticed along the way that a number of buildings on the horizon appeared to be missing. This made his course even clearer than it already was, and he followed it through entire streets painted red with gore. Scattered and in piles, whole and in bits and pieces, undead in their thousands lay motionless on the ruined ground and in the partially razed structures, testifying clearly to a completely one-sided exchange.

The path of destruction led him eventually to a couple of twin towers known as the Dantius Towers going by that sign he came across. Both had been toppled.

A look into what remained coherent about the fallen structures revealed that they had a lot of undead inside. Rather than go over each individual floor Désir, and his pilot, elected to simply kick over the whole anthill – preservation of infrastructure be damned. With a shake of his head he peacefully headed over to the next site, until an undead asari suddenly – in a burst of biotic light – pounced on him from what looked like the remains of a penthouse. Furiously she latched on and tried to drag him out of the air.

The dôji briefly wrestled with this particularly aggressive undead, until he managed to articulate his arm and claws to a position where he with one claw swiped the head from her shoulders.

"Don't know whether you became infected before or after this tower fell, but..." Pardonner sighed as the corpse fell limply as if in pursuit of its disembodied head, "Apologies for taking so long... Now, where are they...?"

The carnage became more fresh as he traversed the city until he found the freshest site, and on a distant rooftop spotted Désir and Aethyta who lay in place, while undead crowded in the surrounding streets in persistent attempts to disturb their rest. Pardonner at the sight of the former began to silently fume as he neared and landed onto the rooftop.

"Aw, Pardonner, y-you're out a-already?" Désir groaned soon as he was aware of him, trying to push himself up despite evidently being drained.

"Indeed." he said frostily, "Désir, we need to talk."

The fellow Aspect stuttered, unable to keep his usual speech pattern even, "S-sure… but I'd prefer if—"

Pardonner seethed at what he could already tell was a recommendation for his prompt return to that shelter, and acted accordingly as he shot his right arm forward and in the blink of an eye wrapped its gauntlet around Désir's prostrate form and went on to slam and pin him bodily against the nearest wall. "Now." he said dangerously.

Trapped and under assault by his withering glare, Désir turned compliant, shrinking away, "I… I'm listening..."

"Do you take me for a fragile little flower?"

"N-no, of course not!"

"Yet you had the temerity to throw me into that place!" Pardonner let his anger boil to the surface in a wave of searing heat, ""I understand why you did it, Désir, but did you honestly think I'd appreciate that?!"

He continued, furiously, "Did you seriously believe that would impress me?! Were you convinced, somehow, that your effort would have made me happy?!"

"I… I..." Désir was usually eloquent enough to a response ready in most situations, but this time he was at a loss for words.

"You were wrong on all three counts!" he snapped as he inched closer till his face was but an inch from that of the colleague who coveted him so, "But," he snapped even more loudly, only to soften his voice considerably, with a sigh, "I will at the very least acknowledge all the effort you put into this..."

Limp as he was, Désir could only dangle in place, unable to muster a reply, caught as he was between distress and astonishment.

"That said, if I reject this," Pardonner briefly closed his eyes, then resumed his glare, "you will only make even more extravagant schemes in the future in your attempts to court me. Therefore, as of right now... I demand that you marry me!"

Of all the things Désir expected from this exchange, this was most definitely so far out of the bottom of his mental lists that he could only gape for several moments till finally he remembered how to speak: "M-m-marry?"

"To engage in a contract with all that entails. To consummate a relationship, to have a child together, and so on."

"B-but..." Désir winced, "I p-promised I wouldn't do that b-before you—"

Pardonner interrupted him right there as he sternly went and locked lips with his colleague, who only managed to blink rapidly for the several seconds it lasted, "This is as good as you're going to get, Désir. I'm not going to fall head over heels for you like some hormonal teen. Do you accept?"

"Um," Désir hesitated, "S-sure."

"Splendid." Pardonner remarked dryly before he turned toward the incredulous Aethyta who for the whole exchange had stared wordlessly, and left his colleague to collapse, "Soon as we rejoin the others, I'll ask for Service to wed us – once this current crisis abates. Got it?"

"Y-yes, darling..." Désir dared to respond, before his eyes rolled up and he was out like a light.

* * *

 _Two days later..._

 _Location:_ Serpent Nebula, Chakravartin-class Juggernaut "Chakravartin", approaching the Citadel.

The news spread swiftly and soon people all over the galaxy learned of the marriage proposal between Pardonner and Désir. Unknown to either, a nearby surveillance camera had inadvertently recorded their historic exchange, and the last polity to learn of this was that of the dôji, once the limited connection to the galactic news media was opened.

A little forced though it was, Ultimo was completely shocked when he learned of it, and the surprise was reportedly echoed by everyone back home.

"Quit your little retrospection and see this."

"I can see it just fine, and it's amazing." Ultimo softly scoffed at Vice's verbal prod as he looked out the canopy of the Chakravartin's observation deck, built for the people of particular importance it was deliberately designed to accommodate for missions like this. The Citadel to which they have traveled these last couple of days slowly became visible in the haze of this nebula that functioned as part of its defense. Anyone who sought to attack the Citadel had to find it first.

Not only it came to view, but also several fleets of warships with at least seven dreadnoughts between them – one of them a gargantuan vessel that by virtue of its sheer frame could be considered a juggernaut in its own right. It also bore an appearance strikingly similar to that of the Tenjo.

"Rather heavily defended, this place..." Jealousy remarked upon it from further back, half-addressing Sophia who stood beside him.

Sophia frowned, "All of this, I believe, was prepared with our visit in mind."

"A hand outstretched with an offer of peace, while the other holds a gun." Vice snorted, smirking broadly, "This might turn into a fun little trip after all."

"Vice, remember why we're here." Ultimo pointed out, not about to let a fight break out just because his colleague was bored.

"Yeah yeah."

Thankfully the approach passed peacefully, and they boarded the diplomatic shuttle prepared for them and soon left the Chakravartin's hangar far behind. It took a fair while to cross the remaining distance, but the Citadel's extensive wards came to surround them eventually.

Ultimo strode to a window and beheld the uncounted lights of alien civilization with a sense of reverent awe enhanced by shivers that ran up his spine. "Can you feel that?" he whispered.

"Much as I'd like to disagree, I am..." Vice hummed as he leaned in to also watch, "What an odd feeling this is."

"Yeah... behind those lights, so many people go about. There's a sense of unease, I feel, in the air in all its myriad forms that are being mashed together as we come ever closer. Many hope this day will pass uneventfully, while others are simply waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Huh, all I can discern is chaos. A lot of it."

"That's one way to interpret it, I guess." Ultimo frowned, and looked over his shoulders, "How about you guys?"

The question unfortunately fell rather flat as he was met by odd looks from the lesser Aspects. "Are we heading to a diplomatic meet or a poetry class?" Jealousy asked at last.

"I'm being quite serious here."

"Um..." Sophia hesitated, trying to actually answer the question, "We all feel nervous and excited about this visit, I guess, but otherwise...?"

Vice hissed in a low tone, cursing as he returned to his seat, "What, you saying we're seeing things?"

"I did not mean it like that, Vice, I just..."

"What the hell are you saying, then, eh?!"

"Let's not fight about this, guys..." Ultimo sighed as he aimed to drop the topic, being unable to exactly describe what he felt. What he perceived was a form of disorderly current in all the hustle and bustle that constituted neither energy nor any form of signals. Consequently he fell silent and retook his seat until their arrival at a dock near the tower's base where a single well-dressed asari dignitary – whose tremendously nervous expression spoke clearly of a desire to be elsewhere – stood in wait.

Ultimo made a fair attempt to appear as non-threatening as possible as he disembarked, but could do much less about his esteemed colleague who adopted an expression that made him seem all the fiercer while they approached the increasingly scared dignitary.

"G-greetings!" the asari gave a rather exaggerated bow, her arms spread out like she intended to embrace them physically, "I am Venali Ilana, representative of the Council. Welcome to the Citadel."

Vice did not so much care for the formality due to how little interest he originally had in coming here, but was forced to do so anyway when Milieu ordered him to. The result was predictably coarse; "So you're our guide?"

"Vice..." Ultimo exhaled a resigned sigh.

"Shut it, eye candy."

For a split second he was tempted to slap his colleague upside the head. Instead, Ultimo issued a curt bow and said before Vice could continue; "Thank you for the welcome, representative Velani. I am Grand Aspect Ultimo, and this here is my colleague, Vice. Do forgive him, the war has left him with little patience."

"I understand." Velani just barely managed to stay her ground, "Let us make our way, then..."

The forced calm was to her credit continuously maintained even as she lead them out of this docking area and into an elevator large enough to accommodate an elcor and a few other beings besides. Ultimo looked up on how high the ceiling was while the contraption began its descent, and after a short while entered a tall chamber chamber where they passed thirty floors before the elevator touched down and allowed their exit.

Velani appeared relieved by simply being alive, "What you see around us now is one of five C-Sec headquarters, their respective jurisdictions being a single ward along with a portion of the Presidium – to which we are going on our way to the Tower itself."

Ultimo nodded his head at the explanation, but his attention was on the people present. Most of them uniformed, many of them armed, with eyes that followed their every move hawkishly. Even then his eyes were drawn to extremely faint silhouettes that mingled with the crowd without apparent notice. Closely he watched, and managed to make out at least two battalions worth of soldiers, fully armored and heavily armed.

"We are surrounded..." Sophia whispered his observation, "Likely by Blackwatch and STG. I doubt they provide tactical cloaks to just about anyone."

"Nothing to be worried about." Jealousy quietly added, using his Noh to ascertain their course of action, "They are on guard, but not aggressively. I sense no intent to attack us."

Ultimo inclined his head as they were under the gaze of many aliens herded onto the opposing elevator, "Let us keep it that way..." leaving behind this place full of severe gazes for another much brighter one with yet more of them.

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

Tevos felt as though she stood on a carpet of needles as they closely watched the progress made in the proceedings below. The dôji had finally come, represented by the Jailer and Butcher of all synthetics, and under the direction of Velani, who was chosen to direct them, came ever closer the Citadel Tower.

"So far so good..." Sparatus rumbled solemnly, analytical of their every move.

"A good start." she said and raised a brow as the diminutive synthetics adopted a mannerism not far from that of tourists upon their arrival at the Presidium. All four of them paused momentarily to gaze up at its bright blue 'sky'. Fascination was evident before they moved on.

Originally she intended for them to approach the tower directly, but the powers that be decided to considerably lengthen the route in order to allow for a protracted close-up observation. Tevos was not happy about the change, but a general removal of civilian traffic from the section did much to allay her concerns. The only people that could be found along the altered route amounted to a mixture of C-Sec, Blackwatch, STG, Commando Units, and a number of regular troops.

Enough people and hardware, hopefully, to offer a stiff resistance should the dôji turn violent.

Tevos sympathetically glanced at Valern, whose severe unease had not abated in the least, staring at the display with unblinking eyes wide as saucers. Enough words of reassurance had been uttered for his sake, so all that remained was to see how this endeavor turns out. As part of her own preparation for it, she thought again of the many recordings from Illium, and dared to have high hopes for the meeting's outcome. Tevos mentally nodded to herself, and got a good look at the flame-haired dôji's cute red and green eyes as it looked up with a most dazzling smile of apparent contentment.

'Jailor' was an astonishingly apt code name, but this time for an entirely different reason than originally intended.

"Only a few minutes left now..." Valern muttered unhappily.

Tevos did not assuage him this time, having done so many times ere now to no real effect. Instead she steeled her own nerves and waited on the thin line between apprehension and excitement.

* * *

 _Thirty minutes later..._

 _Location:_ Citadel; Presidium.

Even without civilians far as they could perceive, the Presidium was absolutely splendid and full of life. Not so much in the water as he had hoped, admittedly, but the sound of running water and its crystalline reflection in the artificial daylight contributed to a peaceful atmosphere.

Ultimo decided the moment he laid eyes on the place that he liked it, and wished he had time to just sit down and bask in its tranquility.

Too bad Vice did not think likewise, for it was not noisy enough – in the right way – for his tastes, "Do tell me that's the elevator we're supposed to take next."

"Indeed it is." Venali affirmed in painstaking politeness, "Beyond it lies the Council Chambers."

"Finally." he huffed impolitely, folding both arms behind his head, "This place is boring as hell."

The asari winced, her smile noticeably more strained, "Um, I'm sorry you feel that way..."

"Vice's inclination lies in the direction of more a rowdy place." Ultimo helpfully supplied as they came to stand in front of the elevator, waiting for the representative to open it, "I for one find the Presidium most pleasant. It's a pity we don't have the time to properly enjoy it."

Venali perked up slightly, "If the talks today go well, Grand Aspect, the fulfillment of your wish may well be close at hand."

"Let us hope so..." Sophia bobbed his golden-haired head in agreement, before they moved on to the Council Chambers where Ultimo, just past the spacious elevator's threshold stopped to stretch his limbs.

Jealousy half-turned to raise a brow at the asari who remained in the elevator after the rest of them left it, "Representative?"

"Unfortunately, the time has come for me to leave you." Venali expressed once they arrived, bowing in a more controlled fashion than before, "Please proceed. The Council waits for you up ahead."

"Okay," Ultimo stopped to nod, "thank you for guiding us."

"You're most welcome, Grand Aspect." the asari replied in kind before she closed the elevator and left them alone.

"... Now, let's do this." Ultimo said to the others, then advanced into the chambers, which tiered architecture and high ceiling stretched before them, its haunting appearance completed by the presence of a fountain and several magnificent trees.

"Jealousy?" Vice queried crassly, probing the utterly silent floors above them.

"It appears that we're alone here except for those ahead..." Jealousy informed them with a narrowing of his eyes, concentrating, "There are no one else."

"No trace of any defenders unlike in previous areas." Sophia quietly and flatly supplied, "The reason, I believe, should be obvious..."

"They are putting their lives in our hands." Ultimo concluded quietly.

Not even a moment afterwards a number of small drones appeared.

Vice gave Jealousy a bonk upside the head, "No one here, huh?"

"Those are only drones, Vice." Sophia said, "Unarmed, likely remote controlled. Hardly a threat."

"I was cracking a joke, imbecile."

"With a punch that could have crumpled a car?"

"Guys, please behave." Ultimo pleaded tersely, embarrassed as he looked back up at the drones. They did not approach and maintained a fair distance as they observed the dôji below. Surely, if their presence were not broadcast all across the galaxy ere now, they are now. After this there would not be a shadow of a doubt, whether they are determined as enemies or potential allies.

A sense of dignity was restored and they ascended the final staircase where Ultimo thought he noticed a slight change in the currents he perceived earlier as they came to stand face to face with the Council they had only briefly met with little success before their flight from Earth. The salarian was a bundle of nerves, while the turian stood stolidly as though he had been chiseled from granite.

The only one of the three to not be stiff or shaky out of apprehension was the asari, who spread her arms diplomatically, in greetings, "Representatives of the Dôji Kingdom, welcome to the Citadel. I am Councilor Tevos, and I represent the Asari Republic."

The turian crisply nodded, "Councilor Sparatus, the Turian Hierarchy."

"Councilor Valern," the salarian followed up anxiously, "the Salarian Union."

"Thank you for the earnest welcome, Councilors." Ultimo started in due turn, calmly and direct, "I am Grand Aspect Ultimo."

"Grand Aspect Vice." Vice introduced himself next, his tone severe, "And I must say you are acting rather casual given the war of extermination you've waged upon us up till now. It's all too easy to see that had it been a little more successful a meeting such as this would not once have occurred to you."

The petrified silence that followed could almost be tasted, where the salarian's complexion turned at least five shades paler.

Councilor Tevos took a deep breath, "We... had legitimate concerns not helped by the knowledge that you performed mental tampering on some of our people. We, as a result, reacted to what we perceived to be a threat."

"A threat, my foot—"

Ultimo cut him off, "Vice, I need you to stop right there."

While the question whether their choice to make war came from an overreaction or not was debatable, at least one concern on their part was perfectly legitimate. The memory alterations carried out by Regula, Aspect of Discipline, _were_ in fact morally dubious despite the necessity of it at the time.

Councilor Tevos continued, "It must be said, however, that much of our perception about you were colored by the late ex-General Desolas who in recent events was revealed to be a traitor who collaborated with the kurozu."

"Long ago he used to be a figure worthy of the utmost respect, less so when he developed certain views, and none at all now." Councilor Sparatus said frankly, in complete and commendable honesty, "We listened to his reports, his words, and as a result erred. The entire war with your people was a mistake, and we now desire naught more than to see it end – peacefully."

"In that, we are agreed." Ultimo replied, glad to hear an admission of such frankness, and would have continued on that same tack was it not for a shout shrill from a certain shortness of breath that came abruptly from across the chamber, disrupting the proceedings. Sophia and jealousy, who had remained behind at the stairs and observed, whipped around to face its owner.

A turian who all but ran past the Aspects without acknowledging the existence of either one.

This appearance provoked a brief eruption from Councilor Sparatus, "Assistant Unera?!" he almost roared at her, "You were supposed to stay out of the tower with all other personnel until recalled!"

Said assistant shrank a little before the Councilor's fury, but held her ground, "Apologies, Councilor, but we just received an urgent message from General Oraka, via Palaven Command."

"From General Oraka?" Councilor Tevos verbally pushed past her colleague – whose temper now, merely seconds after it flared up, cooled – and asked in apprehension, "Has something happened on the kurozu front?"

Suffice it to say, Ultimo and the others stiffened at the mention of their arch-enemy. A chance had come to gain insight, and he was not about to overlook even the tiniest detail. Ultimo braced himself as a result in preparation for what could only be bad news if the present atmosphere was of any indication.

"As of twenty minutes ago, a kurozu fleet managed to breach the blockade!" Unera informed them concisely, "Five dreadnoughts and twelve escorts. General Oraka sent a fleet in pursuit, and an extrapolation has been made of the kurozu's destination based on the relay nexuses they have so far traversed!"

"Where is it headed?" Councilor Valern directly asked, fearing the worst.

"Here, Councilor!"

"Spirits..." Councilor Sparatus growled in a deeply severe tone, "When?"

"Eight hours, approximately." the assistant said, "All fleets not immediately engaged in surrounding sectors have been ordered to intercept, but General Oraka recommends that preparations are made in case of the worst case scenario..."

A lapse of silence followed.

The turian Councilor's eyes mandibles tightened, "Preparations that will be started immediately. Assistant Unera, withdraw for now."

Unera snapped a crisp salute, and did as told, "Yes, Councilor."

"So there's going to be a battle here..." Vice with palms placed against the back of his head asked softly enough that few actually heard him.

Ultimo responded just as quietly, "Looks that way."

"Honored representatives." Councilor Tevos turned her attention back to them, "We apologize for the inconvenience, but in the face of this new development we must for now postpone the meeting."

"There is no need for an apology, Councilor." Ultimo replied calmly with a glint in his eyes, "I was going to suggest the same, and offer our assistance in defending the Citadel."

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

Tevos blinked.

Many things could be hoped for in this world, but she did not in her wildest imagination expect that the dôji would actually offer to help without being asked for it first. Tevos had thought moments ago whether she could use this development to further prove whether the dôji can be trusted. She stared at the comparatively diminutive synthetic who met her gaze so earnestly.

"Your assistance?" she parroted, forgetting to add its title, after a seeming eternity where her colleagues held their breaths.

"Indeed." Ultimo replied in utter calm, "From the beginning we intended to eventually broach the subject of an alliance..."

Sparatus' disbelief was palpable, "Why would you even think of that, given that we fought you in a war no more than days ago?"

"That so hard to believe?" Vice rejoined with a dismissive sneer, "No matter what, the kurozu are our principal enemy. They destroyed our creators, and for that, and countless other distasteful actions, we seek nothing less than their complete annihilation."

"Tis true." Ultimo nodded to its colleague, "We gladly would go to great length to preserve life. The kurozu constitute the sole exemption. For them alone we show no pity and no mercy, and while it is true that you tried to destroy us... we are not going to simply abandon millions of people to those monsters."

Vice pulled its lips back to show rows of sharp teeth,"So what will it be? I'd accept if I were you..."

For not the first time the gruff manner of Vice caused Tevos to flinch, but this time it was accompanied by frank irritation over how the rough-voiced Grand Aspect not-so vaguely implied that the Citadel would not be able to withstand the kurozu's assault without them. Sparatus especially bristled at this, while Valern, meanwhile, quailed.

"Vice, a little more politeness wouldn't hurt." Ultimo chastised and let out a heartfelt sigh, as his gaze drifted back to them, "That being said, Councilors, I must urge that you accept."

"I understand..." Tevos said, "Please allow us to confer first..."

* * *

 _Six hours later..._

 _Location:_ Serpent Nebula; Chakravartin-class Juggernaut "Chakravartin", nine hundred thousand kilometers from the Citadel.

The discussion carried out between the Councilors did not last for very long despite how heated it was between them. Sparatus was irate, Valern was full of unease, and meanwhile Tevos acted as the glue between them with her reasonable arguments.

"Very well." Councilor Sparatus spoke up once the offer had been fully considered, "On behalf of the Citadel, we accept the offer of the Dôji Kingdom that has demonstrated themselves thus far as people of unquestionable altruism. The dôji forces present will enter the struggle to come as an independent force..."

That was not all of his speech, but it's the most important part in Sophia's esteem.

Ultimo did not hesitate once it completed, and spatially transferred him back to the shuttle with the instruction to return and take personal control of the fleet. Sophia wanted to stay with his friends and colleagues on the Citadel, of course, but he was the most optimal choice for commanding the fleet.

In any case, once he was back on the Chakravartin and got himself seated in its bridge, he had all non-essential personnel transfer to the Citadel before he had the fleet take up position adjacent to the elaborate defense grid being set up by the alien fleets.

After that, some among the fleet started playing games to help pass time. Sophia was among them as he allowed himself to play a round of a new strategy game the ship's Captain, currently serving as his deputy, happened to be quite fond of.

"I thought you were new at this game." Manny, an unusually tall Son of Vice with a completely unnecessary eye patch, let out a despondent groan as the defeat screen flashed across his display.

"That wasn't a lie, Captain." Sophia allowed himself a giggle, "Though, admittedly, I've played so many strategy games that it doesn't matter. Most of them are similar enough that it's easy to become proficient."

"Guess that's what I get for challenging someone two hundred years my senior."

"Don't say that." he teased, "Try challenging Paresse if you get the chance to, liable as he is to fall asleep you might just win that exchange."

Manny rolled his eyes, but snorted in amusement, "Very funny."

"Then again, I once heard he won a round of shiritori despite snoring the whole while."

"... How?"

"Sleep talking."

"Is that not ridiculously impossible?"

"The eyewitnesses claimed otherwise."

"Damn... Do we have time for another round?"

"No, and I'd rather not. Only a couple of hours remains before the enemy's estimated arrival. Call all hands to duty stations, and let's get some warm-ups done. Have the ships form up once everyone's accounted for. Shield formation, if you please."

"Yes, my lord." Manny complied, turning to the ship's com dôji, a quiet fellow named Den, who had spent most of the time observing their game with a delighted interest.

Which left him to sit back and center himself through meditation.

Until the helmsman, Barrick, suddenly addressed him, "Lord, we are being hailed."

"Forward it to my display." Sophia watched as the Aspect of Envy's image appeared on his personal haptic screen, "Ah, Jealousy, I see you haven't moved out of the Council Chambers yet."

"Ultimo's decision." Jealousy shrugged, "We're here, he and I, while Vice and the soldiers are sitting down at the docks outside C-Sec. You know, where we docked earlier. But I did not call you for that. There has been a change..."

"Like what?"

"An intercept of the kurozu fleet was just attempted, but no trace of it was found."

"No trace?"

"Not even on alternative routes. The forces down there are running a check on unopened relays as we speak."

Sophia frowned, "So they aren't coming here, then."

"Can't draw any conclusions just yet, but there is one noteworthy thing."

"Yes?"

"The kurozu are trucking about like they are familiar with the relay routes..." Jealousy was understandably puzzled.

"Frankly speaking, that should not be possible." he replied in a blunt manner, then hesitated as an old topic came to mind, "Unless this knowledge came from a place such as that facility on Mars, or maybe we know less about the kurozu than we previously thought."

The fellow Aspect emitted a hiss, "You mean...?"

"I have no proof, but it's a distinct possibility..."

"Should have brought Javik in that case."

"Javik's the only one who possess detailed knowledge of his species' culture. An asset much needed to help foster the new generation. Bringing him along would have been much too risky, no matter how it would have helped with the negotiations." Rather than bring Javik, their plan was to utilize the footage produced during the quarians' stay on Eden Prime. Ultimo was on the verge of doing it when the news came. "We can still call for and consult him, though..." Sophia considered.

"If the time allows for it. There are no quantum entanglement suites readily available where he lives."

"Still..." Sophia motioned to stand up, but brought himself to a halt – just when he thought of where the ship's quantum entanglement suite was located.

Jealousy cocked his head in puzzlement, "Sophia?"

The halt was noticed by the crew also.

Sophia plopped back down, "Deputy, are all crews at duty stations?!"

"Um," Manny hesitated, "there are still a few who..."

"Get them all into position right now! Send also an emergency message to the aliens, tell them to prepare for combat!"

"Y-yes, lord!"

"Sophia!" Jealousy leaned closer to the screen on his end, "What is going on?"

"This just came to mind, Jealousy, but if they actually _are_ familiar with the relay network... then it is possible they might be aware of routes the aliens do not!"

"Like a shortcut?!"

"Correct." Sophia watched as Manny completed his task. The fleet rearranged itself hastily into a shield formation, with some ships lagging behind. The alien armada on the other hand only followed suit reluctantly. There would be questions if his assumption turned out to be wrong, but unfortunately he was proven right in his assumption – he'd much rather be proven wrong – when activity was reported at one of the nebula's relays.

And in that instant their arch-enemy made their appearance in the form of squid-shaped ships black as night.

"Five dreadnoughts, and twelve escorts... just as reported." Sophia's claws twitched, and he was about to give further orders when an additional contact came through the relay. A gigantic monster of a ship. It was barrel-shaped and dwarfed the two-kilometer long dreadnoughts ahead of it by a significant margin. It also looked ancient, with many gaping craters in its hull.

A juggernaut had come.

"What is that ship?" Manny asked as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Doesn't matter." Sophia told him firmly, now utterly devoted to the task ahead, "All ships, maximize power, release weapon locks, and prepare to fire!"

* * *

Location: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village.

Much of the world was quiet as its population watched all that currently went on at the Citadel, and the interest only grew by the hour as the dôji waited for a battle with their ancient enemy.

Javik also observed as he sat in the living room of Lyta Lyle's home, with everyone he had grown familiar with in the neighborhood, his eyes fixed on the screen as events unfolded, with battle soon to begin, but then a sight came that made him instantly stand up in disbelief, shock, and impotent fury.

"W-what's the matter all of a sudden?" Pi, who currently cradled his and Lyta Lyle's sleeping child in his arms, asked, surprised by the abrupt reaction.

"That…" Javik shouted, startling the child awake, "That is a Zha'til Battleship!"

* * *

 _Location:_ Five minutes later...

Ultimo watched from where he stood with Jealousy beside him, opposite to the Council who likewise cast their collective gaze to a nearby projector that currently showed a battlefield interface, featuring a simplified image of the local area – everything within a light year of the Citadel. The battle did not start immediately, and for a while the kurozu and their new toy approached at a low speed.

"Going by precedence..." Councilor Sparatus muttered darkly, "We might be looking at an imminent tactical jump."

The turian continued as he solidly set his gaze on the juggernaut, "The only wildcard on our hands is that unknown ship. Its armament is a mystery at present, next to inscrutable."

"It doesn't appear to be crewed..." Councilor Valern had managed to recover from his nervousness somewhat, consulting his omni-tool, "The data traffic running between it and the surrounding dreadnoughts are incessant, according to an analysis by the STG. It might be slaved to them."

"Any of us here could have come to the same conclusion without scanning it at all." Jealousy sighed.

"Spare us such remarks, please." Ultimo said to him with a pointed glance, and looked back at the map just in time to see the kurozu signatures disappear.

"Tactical jump." Councilor Sparatus barked, bracing himself for the imminent casualty reports. "Councilor!" he addressed his asari colleague, "How much longer until Citadel Control can seal the station?!"

Councilor Tevos grimaced bitterly, "Just another five minutes. They are working hard as they can to bring in all civilian ships still in the system."

"Five minutes might as well be an eternity in circumstances like this!" there was a sharp edge to the solemn tone of his voice, "Tell those that remain to scatter, we have over thirteen million people to worry about here!"

She was not particularly happy about the potential outcome of such a choice, but could not argue with the reasoning as she activated her omni-tool and typed in a message like she wanted to convey all of her regret through it. The asari could barely finish it before the kurozu arrived in a tidal wave of fire and fury, all of them reappearing within knife range of the defending Citadel fleets that as a response to the earlier tactical jump had begun to scatter in preparation for this to happen.

Not nearly fast enough, though, and the result of it was a massive melee as all frigates, cruisers, and all their respective fighter wings engaged the kurozu while the dreadnoughts fought to build distance. The Destiny Ascension was far too cumbersome to allow for this, so it was forced to perform a tactical jump itself, but not before it launched a full salvo of its impressive quartet of spinal mass accelerators at a kurozu escort that happened to appear right in front of it, from point blank range, smashing its kinetic barrier wide open and pummeling the hull beneath to scrap.

Ultimo beheld the resulting mess, and the crisscrossing light show of laser weaponry, torpedoes, and mass accelerator rounds as the two groups mixed and swarmed about one another like angry bees that only grew in number as the kurozu released their own fighter craft. The new juggernaut did not lose out as compartments opened across great swathes of its length to reveal countless rows of batteries along with a swarm of several hundred drones that for starters, in conjunction, ripped through better than a dozen frigates almost simultaneously.

It could have developed into a one-sided fight in favor of the kurozu if it was not for the dòji fleet. It was apart from the Council fleets to begin with, allowing it to face the mess unmolested. Asuras and Kalkis raced forth to join the melee at its outskirts, while the Vajras took defensive formation around their larger cousins. The Shivas once in position took aim for the kurozu escorts while the single Brahmastra unleashed its colossal spinal laser cannon and gutted an enemy dreadnought amidship while its attention was fixed on a stubborn squadron of Arakans, having just stripped them of their Digera wolf packs.

The enormous Chakravartin on the other hand had its attention fixed upon the juggernaut. Its weaponry was similar to that of the Brahmastra, but vastly scaled up. It glowed angrily at the seams as it powered up for an alpha strike.

Ultimo's attention was, however, forced away from the awesome sight as a single kurozu dreadnought forced its way through an Athamere and several of its escorting Tevura and Kurinth.

Its course was set for the Citadel.

"Only three seconds left!" Councilor Tevos announced, her gaze cast toward the canopy above, and toward the station's arms just in time to see them lurch into motion, "It's closing. We should have enough time for it to..."

"Too late." Councilor Valern hissed despondently as the dreadnought in question hurled forth a swarm of pods that closed in rapidly. Most of these managed to slip into the closing station just in time, with a few unable to do much but be destroyed as they impacted the Citadel's incredibly tough outer hull without even leaving a scratch. Most of those that managed to enter, however, scattered and slammed themselves into the wards.

Councilor Sparatus clenched his mandibles, "Spirits… Grand Aspect, I suppose it's good that we have you here now. Please have your forces link up with ours. Exterminate the invaders with extreme prejudice."

"Sure," Ultimo nodded, and absently noted how those currents he noticed earlier started to twist, "but first, please hail the Chakravartin, I need an assessment on the strength of what we face here."

The turian nodded his head in agreement and did just that.

"Grand Aspect. Councilors." Sophia's voice soon echoed, hastily as can be expected, "What do you need?"

"Enemy force assessment." Ultimo told him in short.

"Understood, I'll be passing the request on to the Baloo. Hold on for a moment..." It took several moments, but Sophia did not disappoint when he returned to them with the data, "Those pods carried with them quite the significant force, Ultimo." he started, "Far as the Baloo can ascertain, there are approximately one thousand standard units – squids and such. Few compared to what we usually faced in the past, but with them there are about eighty Deus ex Machina."

"Thirty-nine are B-class. Twenty-three A-class. Eleven S-class..."

"And...?" Ultimo had a bad feeling about what might come next.

Sophia shuddered at the data he had received, "Five P-class."

"P-class." Jealousy whispered in a silent burst of fear, "Just one of those could give Milieu a fight. Five of them..."

The discomfort shared between them was readily apparent. "What is it?" Councilor Sparatus asked in concern, looking like he knew he wouldn't like the answer.

"Incoming!" Councilor Valern interrupted as a shadow fell on the canopy far above and smashed through it. The resulting leakage was immediately blocked as the Citadel's security measures set in, but it could do much less about the monster that landed on the floor a scarce hundred feet away, between them and the exit.

Its armor shone brilliantly as it rose. A lanky figure with multiple-jointed arms, stout legs, and a trio of glaring eyes in its angular head.

One of the P-class.

Ultimo glared at it as he turned about, "Jealousy, take position close to the Councilors."

"S-sure..." Jealousy nervously obliged.

The kurozu screeched in a metallic voice reminiscent of a female, "Dôji. Grand Aspect. Ultimo."

"You have come a long way, kurozu..." Ultimo narrowed his eyes as he gained in power, activating his Noh and summoning the fullest extent of his capabilities. It just might not be enough, but countless people would die if these things are left to roam freely.

It chortled harshly, the voice grating, "So have you, and without your protector to boot!"

Ultimo said nothing as a fury woke within him under normal circumstances never surfaced, his power output so great by now that it was almost palpable to the others here, along with a strange tingle in his limbs he has never felt before.

"Helpless like a babe, you now are~" the kurozu hissed with clear menace, "Easily killed, like those sheep behind you!"

"Don't you dare threaten them while I'm here, scrap!"

The machine wasted no more time and cried out in exultation as it threw itself at him. Ultimo echoed it in all but outcry, and he bent time and space alike as they clashed with calamitous force under the watchful and utterly awed eyes of the known galaxy, splashing apart a great portion of the Council Chambers with their first exchange that could have spelled a certain end for the Councilors if his first act had not been to place a time fault before their and Jealousy's position.

And with that, the war between kurozu and dôji began anew – in earnest.

* * *

 _Author notes:_ And so it begins, the final battle of Abject Judgment.

Answer to comments:

 _WarFlower_ : They would consider his words pretty heavily, at least. For reasons stated within this chapter he wasn't brought along, though, but he will have a say in things after a fashion.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Surprise Visitor**

* * *

 _Location_ : Citadel; Council Chambers.

The near-entirety of the Council Chambers, which has stood nigh-unchanged for uncounted years, was redecorated in an instant. It morphed wildly before their eyes as chasms gaped wide where there used to be polished floor, while the alcoves above crumbled away like dust before a tempest. This vaunted place could just as well be a sandcastle caught by a rising tide, if said tide was accompanied by the shock wave of a distant thermonuclear detonation.

Never had Tevos seen devastation such as this. Awe nevertheless filled her mind amid a mental struggle to believe their present reality, unable to track the combatants who were only visible as streaks of color amid the destruction. Ultimo's scarlet and the kurozu combat unit's black sheen colored the air as they repeatedly collided and withdrew in tremendous displays of rapid violence where each strike and acceleration unleashed thunderous shocks that hammered against the strange barrier between them, and which could have killed them instantly.

It defied belief.

"How are we still alive?" Valern asked sudden with surprising calm astonishingly different from the last few days of fears and griping.

Tevos focused on the question, and looked to the only one he could get an answer from. The lone dôji who hovered before them with a forlorn expression as it tried to keep track of the battle. It only reluctantly glanced over its shoulder, like it had forgotten about them. "We are currently being protected by a time distortion. That's how..."

"A time distortion?" Sparatus repeated the words as if to try and make sense of them.

"Seriously, you believe this to be a good time for a Q and A?!" the dôji, Jealousy was its name she recalled, snorted in naked disbelief, "The enemy has so far made two hundred and sixty-four attempts to kill you! If not for Ultimo's active intervention that number would have doubled!"

"Five hundred and... how?"

"Rather than ask, you should figure out how to escape! You do have an escape route, yes?"

"No..." Valern frowned unhappily, "Those we had were just lost to, shall we say, a natural disaster...?"

Sparatus groaned, but did not get to say a word.

Not as the podium gave away along with a portion of what remained of the floor opposite to them, and splintered into a thousand errant splinters that were propelled by an unseen force straight into the barrier wherein they froze – a terrible reminder of just how close they were to mortal danger. If the phenomenon vanished they'd get killed in a disturbing number of ways.

"Wah..." Jealousy sounded almost cute as it drifted a little closer, away from the fight that had not yet diminished.

The turian Councilor growled at it, "Aren't you going to do something?!"

"What do you honestly expect me to do?" the dôji retorted, curling a claw in the imitation of a fist clenching. What it aimed to follow up with was broken into a startled gasp as the fight abruptly slowed, when the scarlet streak crashed into the right-hand wall no closer than fifty feet away and above, cratering a large portion of it.

Eagerly the black sheen bounced off the opposite wall and made a sharp dive for Ultimo's location till it explosively emerged from the hole and rammed itself bodily into the kurozu's midsection.

A fair attempt, far as she could determine, but all it did was arrest the machine's momentum.

* * *

 _It's so hard..._ Ultimo complained at how little damage his hypersonic charge did to this unwanted guest as he spatially relocated himself from a position that could have resulted in him being grabbed. It tried exactly that, but readjusted to rush for his consequent position without missing a beat.

Not for the first time in this fight he deployed his Noh, and tried to trap his enemy in a bubble of stopped time.

It did not connect.

For all the good it did, he had turned the Council Chambers into a giant minefield filled with distortions of stopped, slowed and vastly accelerated time. The machine, however, somehow managed to detect every one and on a dime avoided them like it did just now, then made corrections and closed in fast enough on him that its leading punch just barely brushed against his chest as he hastened to cast himself aside.

Only for his legs to get caught in a vice.

"Ah?!" Ultimo yelped as the enemy in a great holler of schadenfreude smashed him into a surviving section of the floor, and followed it up with a curled fist that aimed to do what the last attempted punch could not. The scarlet dôji reacted accordingly from his prone position; "Time stop!"

Yet again the machine stopped and bolted out of the way.

The kurozu knew well that it'd be his win if his Noh manage to pin it down.

Ultimo could have torn the machine apart regardless of its capabilities, and at his leisure, if he managed that. But his Noh did not activate fast enough to catch the likes of a P-class before it slipped away. So for now he could only be satisfied in its use for forcing his foe to distance itself, granting him a tiny moment of respite he used to relocate himself to a spot just behind it, where he made a new capture attempt.

It consequently leaped forward like it had robotic fleas in its bearings.

 _Are you a monkey or something?_ Ultimo silently remarked in irritation, and ducked as the start of yet another exchange of blows followed where he strained to defend himself and, only with full use of his Noh and great effort, slapped aside a deluge of attacks until a tiny opening appeared – a minuscule one that would within a millisecond – where he tried to stop time across a broad front.

The machine noticed that it could not simply retreat this time and promptly hurled itself past him.

Ultimo followed it with his with eyes, and in so doing, for an instant, his gaze met with those Jealousy and the Councilors who helplessly watched from behind the barrier he erected for their benefit. A flash of light at the upper edge of his vision also demanded his attention, but it did not amount to anything. Repeatedly he had tried to locate its source, but found nothing.

It was akin to the feeling he began to experience upon their arrival here. A tingling sensation that continuously grew within him but which he could not discern the meaning of.

The machine hawed as it bullrushed him from the side, "Getting distracted, are we?"

Ultimo blurred into motion to get out of dodge, but not fast enough to avoid a mean backhanded strike across his face launched in passing that sent him into the fountain, smashing it apart into a leaking ruin he rushed to climb out of upon recovery, and perceived just in time a massive palm as it raced for his head. In a trice of panic, Ultimo relocated to a spot past the towering deus ex machina, whereupon he desperately flung himself around and rapped his claws across one of its calves hard enough to leave clear dents, but not deep enough to do any real damage.

The machine nevertheless overclocked on the spot in direct response and span.

Aware of how much more dangerous it just got, the scarlet dôji winced and spatially jumped by reflex almost to where the barrier was.

"Ultimo!" Jealousy called out anxiously from beyond it, "Are you alright?"

 _Oh, how I would l_ _ove_ _to convey that everything's fine..._ Ultimo thought bitterly as the deus ex machina zigzagged the distance between them, narrowly avoiding all the bubbles of altered time. Daring to hope that he could catch it this time, Ultimo decided on the fly to have them all collapse on it.

That unfortunately did not deter his enemy in the least, and while the undiminished speed caused it to graze the expanding space/time anomalies it nonchalantly purged the tiny portions of its black armor that got caught – bloody determined to reach him. Even worse, the overclocked state was upped even further at the last moment so it could cross the remaining distance before he could relocate again, forcing him to face it head on.

Ultimo had no choice, "Karakuri henge: Lion mouth!"

With great force their punches met, and unleashed a great enough release of energy in that resulting clash to make it seem like two super heavy artillery pieces had just unloaded on one another muzzle to muzzle from point blank range, putting the nearby barrier under great strain and almost gutting the tower. A contest of strength he, to his chagrin, lost as while the gauntlet – shaped into the stylistic image of a tusked lion's head – did not yield his arm was brutally ripped from its socket. Ultimo cried out in anguish as he reeled from the loss, and furiously tried to backpedal from his enemy who only chortled in sadistic glee as it neared.

* * *

 _Forty seconds ago..._

 _Location:_ Serpent Nebula, Chakravartin-class Juggernaut "Chakravartin"

The fight in space persisted even as the numbers dwindled on both sides, and was further fueled now by a certain undertone of desperation as the assembled fleets fought fervently to keep any more ships from closing in on the beleaguered Citadel.

Sophia shared in their fears as he stared at the newest batch of information supplied by the _Baloo_ as to the current situation down on the space station. Battles are breaking out in every ward between the kurozu and every armed force available, but as of yet they haven't yielded much of a positive result as the damage and casualties spread and grew in severity. While earnest in their intention, it would take a while for the organics to properly mobilize against the invasion.

Nowhere was the fighting more intense, however, than the Presidium.

Fully a third of the invading force had penetrated into its eden-like environment, and their target was apparent as they from the start made a beeline for Vice. Due to this, perhaps luckily, or perhaps not, combat on the Presidium was focused on one location.

"My lord!" the Captain interrupted his musings, "That stubborn hunk of a junk's not slowing down at all!"

Said hunk of junk was the enemy's newly acquired Juggernaut. Decrepit though it may be, it has proven incredibly resilient. The damage to its hull and superstructure was extensive enough that any other ship would have fallen apart ere now.

Not only did it still manage to remain active, but it was still an active threat as it let loose volleys in every direction its batteries allowed.

"Hardy little fellow, isn't it..." Sophia frowned, "The amount of redundancies on board must be insane."

"What should we do?"

"Go at it meticulously, Captain. Scan it and target all critical systems you can find, starting with its engine."

Manny exhaled, "Death by a thousand cuts, hu—"

"T-this is horrible!" the com dôji abruptly screeched, "My lord!"

"Calm yourself," Sophia hissed at the outburst, "and tell me what just happened!"

The frightened youngster imparted some forced calm into his speech, "A-apologies… I've just received an emergency message from the Baloo!"

"Yes?"

"All remaining P-class are inbound on Grand Aspect Vice's location!"

The Aspect of Wisdom could not stop himself from gasping, horrified, "All four of them?!"

"Y-yes, lord..."

"No..." Sophia palmed his face despondently, "Let our troops know… and tell Vice he needs to find someone to initiate ICON mode for him without delay!"

"What about—?"

"Ultimo's present location doesn't allow for it." the Aspect of Wisdom gave him one of his rare pointed glares he usually reserved for times of great need, "Now, do me a solid and dispatch that message!"

The nervous com dôji inclined his head, "O-on it, lord."

Sophia redoubled his efforts to appear like he was in control of the situation as his attention returned to their absurdly stubborn target – only for his veneer to violently crack when a terrible scream of pain suddenly rang from the live feed to the Citadel Tower, almost making him drop everything on the spot.

It imparted a level of dread into all of them as was all too apparent as the fleet's cohesion was lost in a dramatic fashion.

A line had been crossed that could not go unanswered.

"All ships!" Sophia stood up in panic and cried out, all of his usual composure lost, "Focus all of your fire on the enemy juggernaut! Sink it and do it fast! Hurry!"

Every part of his being wanted to rush to Ultimo's aid, but they could not turn away so long as that annoying ship still remained at large. "Please, Ultimo, in his name..." the Aspect pleaded quietly as the fleet reluctantly yet hurriedly turned about, "Please don't die on us!"

* * *

 _Location_ : Citadel; Presidium.

Originally he had for a plan to meet the enemy in the wards, but a massed approach on the Presidium that completely circumvented C-Sec altogether by the way of burrowing through the Citadel's very own superstructure forced a change of plans. Vice scoffed at this aspiring problem, however, and with casual ease exchanged one potential battleground for another where military support was already both plentiful and prompt.

Not an inch of his being liked the Presidium, but it was brightly lit and spacious.

The portion of it currently under assault was also largely evacuated and sported a rather considerable military presence. Regardless of his personal opinions, all of those helped simplify matters.

"Now if only our newfound combined arms was up to scratch." Vice mused as a hail of projectiles and grenades whined past him from either side of the Presidium's artificial lake. What little cooperation existed between the mishmash of forces was bare-boned, with each doing their own thing. The military of three separate species, C-Sec, and his fellow dôji. Together they laid down a solid screen of fire from cover with all the weapons at their disposal.

Vice did not expect much success from those with small arms, but they performed well enough as distractions and drew in the enemy like moths to an open flame. Squids swarmed forth in great flocks that seemed almost nostalgic to him, while smaller cretins shaped like dogs and antelopes bounded about and let loose rays of searing heat from gaping mouths and tails whenever they spied a target. There were even snakes covered in serrated blades that slipped seamlessly into the water and hastened to cross the lake amid attempts to kill them. One succeeded, only to be grabbed and pulled apart like a toy after a minor dôji spotted it make landfall.

Yet while the number of dead climbed, it was much less bad than what it could have been.

"Karakuri henge: Turtle saw!"

A mad cackle tore from his throat as he bisected a deus ex machine cleanly enough to send its halves flying. It had sprung up to him via the nearest bridge with a speed that belied its great size.

Said acceleration helped it none once it went airborne.

It wound up as no more than a momentary distraction so an unusually large deus ex machine could foist itself unopposed from one of many holes gouged into the Presidium. An elongated and inelegant mess of train-like machine sporting multiple joints, a large number of caterpillar legs, and a head made up of a giant drill that came apart and was jettisoned in order to erect into place a battery of heavy mass accelerators that opened fire promptly. Vice observed out the corner of his eyes as several large spikes of tungsten traveled toward him, leaving in their wake a trail of newly shed element zero.

"Come on, now." he drawled in mock boredom as he inclined to dodge the first projectile, and did similarly with the next ones, "This is pointless..."

Vice narrowly avoided all but one, which he struck aside before he accelerated. The machine for a response did not budge, except to pivot its guns to track his comparatively tiny form.

It managed to let loose several thunderous shots, but missed by a sizable margin – unless, of course, it meant to create half a dozen craters in the pavement. Vice laughed to himself, and slashed just as he sped past the machine, marring the Presidium yet further as the machine fell from its newly detached head and smashed numerous stores underneath its considerable bulk.

A flock of squids proceeded to loop away from the battle to instead come for him.

Vice decided to echo its approach, aware that a fresh batch of deus ex machina sought an opening, and waited for the first squid to put its great quantity of tentacles on him before he delivered a chop upside its frame that ejected most of its electronic innards through its underbelly. A borderline execution he repeated for the remainder.

Movement caught his gaze from an unanticipated vector, and he whirled around to face it.

A minor surprise replaced by shock and anger when he came terribly close to knocking the head from a smaller dôji's shoulders. Vice seethed, "What the hell are you doing, rushing all the way here?!"

"L-lord..." the minor dôji visibly understood how close he had come to injury. Had he been an organic, he probably would have lost control of his bowels. "A m-message has come for you!"

"Out with it!" he barked.

"T-there are four P-class deus ex machina on approach according to the Baloo… Furthermore, Aspect Sophia advise that you engage ICON mode at the earliest convenience!"

Vice muttered a curse under his breath, "Huh, in that case I better find myself a suitably angry alien..."

None among them a better option than that old prick, Pallin, who stared from behind the lines at the destruction like every piece of it was an open affront to his profession. A fellow who made no secret about his opposition to dôji presence in C-Sec, or anywhere on the Citadel for that matter. Not the most ideal, perhaps, but he did not sport a surplus of candidates.

"Get back to cover." he growled as he turned away from the plethora of enemies he would have preferred to stay and fight, "This is no place for..."

The lack of an immediate response led him to cast a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see the minor dôji impaled upon a yard-long obsidian blade. "Dôji. Grand Aspect." growled a winged beast of a machine through a maw with twelve rows of hook-like teeth, "Vice!"

 _Rust…_ Vice thought unhappily as additional shadows appeared all around him. _Are we in the worst case scenario…?_

A glimpsed his soldiers through the periphery, and saw their expressions of utter terror.

 _Yup…_

This would hurt a lot.

Vice was nevertheless not one to remain inactive as he threw himself out of the encirclement, and trusted his Noh to at least fumble their efforts to catch him for a moment. No chance to fly over to Pallin, though. "Karakuri henge—"

Unfortunately it was for naught as they proceeded to pile onto him. As one they drove him down to ground where he was pinned in place like a moon had been dropped on top of him. Two of them held down his arms and feet, while the rest drove sharp weapons painfully through his abdomen. It could have been the end of him, but their claws stopped just short of his core.

 _Damn it, powerless like a helpless babe…_ Vice cursed in dread as he attempted to resist the restraint, trying to find even the smallest leverage. Anything to release himself from their grasp. "Ack, I'd prefer if you did not stare so much, you bunch of perverted assholes!" he growled just in time for his head to be grabbed.

"Spare your voice!" one of the machines hissed triumphantly, "You will need it to scream once our study commences!"

Study?

A solitary claw touched upon his core, and pressed against it.

These bastards intended to perform a field study on him!

Vice fervently tried to kick and wrestle himself out of their grasp, but all he got from it was a tiny crack in his core that caused onto him an unimaginable outburst of pure agony, arresting his efforts in favor of crying out.

Worse, it caused his Noh to deactivate.

Effectively it rendered him and all other dôji open for study of their matter conversion technology and Noh devices. If the kurozu managed to replicate either of these, or both, their victory would only be a matter of when, not how. There would be no limit to their number and combative power. Vice cried out as he fought through the pain and tried to wriggled, much to the amusement of his captors who embarked on the task of disassembling him.

 _Damn it…_

 _Damn it…_

 _DAMN IT…_

* * *

 _Location:_ Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line; Brahmastra-class Dreadnought "Endymion"

Milieu felt a creeping numbness as he watched the live footage from the alien space station, and could barely sense what went around him as steep regret threatened to pull him fully into a microcosm of shame, sorrow, and utmost terror. "W-what have I done…?" he asked feebly of no one in particular.

"This happened because you did not go with them!" Rage could just as well be on the far side of Nirvana's orbit rather than in the very same room he just barged into, but his anger was fully justified, "Your unwillingness to expose your back caused brought this on us!"

"Rage," Gauge rumbled in strained calm, gritting his teeth, "he could not possibly have predicted this turn of events..."

"What the hell else can he do?!" Avaro retorted, gesticulating at the giant dôji, "We have no way of sending reinforcements in a matter of days, much less a few minutes! Do we have aught else to do but to cast blame where it's due?!"

Paresse followed suit, in a rare moment of activity, "Not to mention how this is affecting everyone else… You've all noticed, yes, that Vice's protection just left us?"

"As if I can ignore that!" Rage snarled.

"It looks like sense has left everyone as well." Regula communicated all the way from Eden Prime, "Our civilization has come to a screeching halt – with an emphasis on the screeching part. There's panic in the streets, and even the unfaithful are entering places of faith en masse to beg for their Grand Aspects' safety and pray for a miracle."

Milieu shuddered as he inclined and hid his face in his palms.

"And all of that in the name of a so-called experiment!" Rage pointed a claw at him accusingly.

"I know… I was stupid. The mistake was mine and I am sorry for that..." Milieu barely managed to respond, unable to hold back his grief, "But that experiment is all we can lean on now… and hope with all our might that something happens before it's too late."

Gauge sighed in lamentation as he watched how Ultimo writhed in agony, "That looks to be all we can hope for, but what kind of experiment is it? What did you hope to see happen?"

"… I do not rightly know." he bitterly admitted, "Father for all his brilliance had a habit of being obtuse. I recall he once spoke of a difference between me and those two. Supposedly they possess a great deal of potential that I don't have, and I hoped a drastic change of environment might provide the stimuli necessary to bring it out."

"The Citadel."

Milieu closed his eyes and nodded meekly, "The Citadel, or any world with a sizable organic presence."

"Are we supposed to put our hope to something so nebulous?" Rage growled in disbelief.

"It is all we can do. Hope for their awakening," Milieu looked back up to the live feed, his gaze distant, "and pray it's enough."

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

Ultimo just barely held on, and not in the manner the choice of words implied. Not long after he lost his arm, the kurozu managed to run a claw through his side at the waist and quite literally nail him to the floor where he squirmed in misery under the gaze of those he only just barely managed to still protect while his remaining arm was hard at work pushing against the offending appendage that threatened to cut through his chest.

The time distortion fluctuated wildly as his drained Noh struggled to maintain it, and wallowed in regret over that his promise had now made him a liar.

"Ultimo!" Jealousy despondently cried out from beyond it, "Lower the barrier!"

"N-no..." Ultimo denied him, gasping as the encroaching claw gained an inch, "If I cannot handle this, then you..."

The minor Aspect wouldn't have any of it, "You're going to die if this keeps going! Release the barrier, I'll think of something!"

His words rang true, but the scarlet dôji could not find it in himself to relent. The enemy looming over him would only throw Jealousy around like he's a rag doll. "Do comply, dôji!" the machine rumbled in anticipation, finding a disturbing amount of delight in torturing him, "Your precious companion and those with him will die regardless, once I am finished with you!"

Ultimo winced at another stab of pain as the claw pressed ever closer to his core, all the while unwilling to gaze into its glowering optics. Trapped and forlorn, he could only delay the inevitable.

"Now, scream!" it cackled in morbid fascination, and sawed its sharpened appendage further into his maimed form.

Jealousy screamed, "No!"

An agonized yell left Ultimo as he fought to keep it away, with only a couple inches worth of distance left to spare. It became all the worse as it further neared and his core was just about to be touched. Time seemed to slow, and it certainly was not his Noh that did it. Ultimo made one final exertion to stave off the night, when suddenly the strange feeling that now permeated all but his core blossomed.

/:Conditions Fulfilled:/

… _Huh?_

Ultimo blinked, and thought there was something wrong with his eyes as a purely white glyph appeared in the air above that his enemy failed to perceive, and with it came a strange form of comprehension that slipped his mind when the surroundings faded away into a colorless void where he came to stand uninjured.

But he was not alone.

"Are we… dead?" he inquired.

Vice was if anything equally as confused as he examined his own body speculatively, "That's a question I hoped you had the answer for… Isn't this your doing?"

"I did nothing."

"Who did this, then?" his colleague growled, "I was being picked apart when something pulled me... here..."

"Same here." Ultimo nodded just as the void proceeded to morph into a pristine beachfront complete with a tranquil evening sun on the horizon. They gazed toward it in complete silence, confused about all of this, before movement prompted them to shift their attention. A ghostly blur that approached them across the sand, incoherent though it left concrete footprints in its wake. It took shape as it neared and rose to tower over them. Uncertain as to the meaning of this, the dôji took an involuntary step back. The blur splashed outward and then shrank in to take upon itself the shape of a human being. Tall, yet withered with age, and wore a face unmistakable in its familiarity.

"F-father…?" Vice dared to ask, his lower lip actually trembling as Roger Dunstan himself came to stand before them.

"Indeed, it is I..." Dunstan said and smiled as he took a step and placed his wrinkly hands on their heads, "It's been a while, my children."

This must be a program left behind for them shaped in the image of their father, but so life-like that Ultimo could not tell the difference. Every wrinkle and texture within the palm felt just as he remembered it, and as a result, through his bewilderment, he rubbed his head yearningly against the palm. They all had missed their father greatly, so he aimed not to squander this opportunity for however long it would last - regardless of whether it be real or false. "Y-yes, it truly has..." he agreed in a tearful whisper.

"Which should be obvious enough, as I am here only because the wildest and most outlandish hope of mine has become a reality. It must have taken many centuries." Dunstan shrugged, gazing into the distant horizon, "But nevertheless, at long last you are ready to bring online your secondary reactors."

"Secondary?" Vice could not muster his usual snarl, appearing unusually meek, "We have secondary reactors?"

"Yep." Dunstan said simply, "A special feature for the two of you alone."

Ultimo and his colleague shared a glance, then refocused on the fatherly image, "If we had such a feature, why did it not activate before?"

"Because the conditions were not fulfilled before now."

"And what were those conditions?"

"Why, the absorption of organic sentiment of course."

They both blinked and responded accordingly; "Huh?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vice pressed.

While ingenious, Dr. Dunstan had the tendency of neglecting further elaboration. "The concept reactor, notice that I used 'the' instead of 'my'," the old man chuckled proudly, "doesn't use fuel in the traditional sense. What it draws upon for empowerment is the sentiment of organic beings – or, in your case, sentiment of specific categories."

Ultimo had a eureka moment as the comprehension he lost on the way here returned, "So that's what all that tingling I felt was?"

Vice looked onto him questioningly.

"That which I felt, like you did, since our arrival was the massed sentiment of over thirteen million organics. An aggregate of thoughts and emotions."

"Precisely. A hundred points to you!" Dr. Dunstan clapped his hands, and brought up an image of the Citadel dyed in black and white as the appendages parted, "An aggregate that was at first a veritable mess, but which coalesced and crystallized toward opposite extremes perfect for you to feed upon when the attack started."

"Love, and bravery. Hatred, and anger. Those and all between."

Ultimo winced as countless images of the situation elsewhere on the space station coursed through his head. The confusion was momentary, and he saw each one clearly. Of a crew of firefighters who bravely pushed into a collapsing chamber awash in flames to save people trapped inside. Of C-Sec officers who are trying to hold off the kurozu, buying time for civilians to flee with their own lives.

There was no end to the imagery flashing past him, all of it full of meaning. "This is..." Vice whispered thoughtfully, deeply transfixed by visions of his own.

"Indeed, it is time for the two of you to awaken to your potential." Dunstan smiled as he let down his hands, and to their dismay started to fade.

"No, don't go!" Ultimo cried and tried to move closer, but was unable to. "Not yet, father!"

Vice followed suit, all while muttering curses under his breath, "Don't go away! This is too soon!"

"My time is up." Dunstan sighed with finality and crouched down so the parent could see his children eye to eye, "Ultimo, Vice, shed those tears and instead drink deeply from the strength those millions of people have graciously given. Ascend, evolve, and show me how much you've grown!"

"Rise, my dôji." he said before the image vanished completely, "Excelsior!"

Ultimo returned to his prior situation and discovered that no more than an instant had passed. Nothing had changed since the vision started, except he now could finally swallow and drew the abundant sentiment accumulated in his body into the core, and triggered a reaction beyond what he expected.

The kurozu, unaware of this, gloated as it drove its attack home,"This is the end for you!"

Only to meet with a wall of energy neither of them could fully comprehend that reacted to its intrusion by expanding momentarily in an explosive fashion and violently expelled the machine with the force to hurl it across this wrecked place. The machine did not understand in even the faintest way what just happened, made clear by how it flailed about in the crater it consequently made.

Ultimo had no words to provide for now, for he could not explain this sensation that permeated his very being as the sentiment was fully taken in. There was no word he had that could encapsulate it.

All he could do was see where it took him.

/:Absorption Of Local Sentiment Complete:/

/:Concept Reactor Online:/

/:Acquiring Idealized Form:/

* * *

 _Location_ : Citadel; Presidium.

Vice felled a tear he would immediately have wiped away had he still possessed his extremities as he was returned to his unfortunate circumstance, away from the comforting presence of their father, and shuddered at a new agony that threatened to finally run his core through. A measure he thought premature as they were still in the process of studying him, though it mattered not as the sentiment he drank up as instructed reacted in complete outrage.

The four deus ex machina that had been pinning him down were repelled by the borderline nonsensical shock wave it exuded to the extent large portion of lights above him were sufficiently damaged to darken the area.

/:Absorption Of Local Sentiment Complete:/

With great expectation and awe, he blinked.

/:Concept Reactor Online:/

/:Acquiring Idealized Form:/

A message followed by a swift restoration of his crippled body. Wounds were closed, limbs that had been cast aside returned as though dragged by an unseen force and reconnected with him. Vice rose as functionality returned to him, and was followed by a terrific sensation as his body was promptly reconfigured from ground and up.

This process reinvigorated him, but that was not all of it.

It also greatly lengthened his visors, added armor to his hakama, grew from his chin a set of fierce spikes, and shortened his gauntlets, providing him with smaller claws, but added sets of freakish blades longer than he was.

Vice gained in menace with every change, and he liked it, "Ah, I feel power well up from inside of me~"

The kurozu did not attack. They stood stock still and hung in the air, staring at him in abject incomprehension. Shadowed as they were in the newly cast darkness, the environment seemed entirely in their favor. To assume that, however, as things stood, was a mistake.

"Oi, what are you lot waiting for?" Vice jeered as he brandished the new blades, "Don't you dare tell me you're gonna puss out after trespassing on the temple that is my body like that!"

One of the P-class, for lack of a better response, rushed him soon as he took his gaze from it, much to the reinvigorated Grand Aspect's utmost sadistic glee. Vice yearned to try out his new strength, and had several targets for it. "Looks like we got at least one contender that hasn't rusted its pants yet!" he smirked dangerously, appearing as every bit the barbarian, and lashed out soon as it was within arms' reach.

The deus ex machina which he could not even scratch previously was separated cleanly into three parts with a single cut. It was not without resource, however, and had its own core utilized as a small fusion bomb that for a moment eclipsed the area in destructive energies, and then faded into a collapsing pillar of smoke amid the ruin.

"Tried to finish me off, did you?" Vice appeared positively demonic as he surfaced from the smoke, smirking in elation as the after-effects of having several million peoples' worth of anger and hatred course through him played with his thoughts, "Try again, you piles of scrap, but I warn you, do beware of the night behind you! I wouldn't want you to die off too soon!"

/:Idealized Form Acquired:/

/:Vice – Back from the Dark:/

* * *

 _Location:_ Citadel; Council Chambers.

 _T-this… this is incredible~_

Ultimo shuddered in delight at the unbelievable surge of strength he registered as the restoration and reconfiguration of his badly wounded body was completed, and brought with it a set of changes to go along with it to his form under the combined gaze of surprise from friend and foe. It expanded his visors, lengthened his gauntlets, and caused the black shirt he wore to blossom outward and turn into a pure white heian era robe.

/:Idealized Form Acquired:/

/:Ultimo – Forward until Dawn:/

"So this is my new form..." he whispered, awestruck, "Father, it's splendid!"

"Dôji!" the kurozu snarled as it renewed its approach, "What just happened?! What is that?!"

"This here?" Ultimo smiled conversationally and flaunted his upgraded body in a flawless pirouette as if to show himself off to both it and the thoroughly dazzled Jealousy, "This is a transformation grounded in Love, enemy mine."

It snorted, "Love? What nonsense!"

"Oh, a moment ago I'd agree, but it is what it is~"

"Nonsense! Nonsense!" the machine repeated more harshly, "We will squeeze the truth from you!"

"By all means, do try." Ultimo said with a flourish, beckoning for it to come, "I promise, though, that it won't be easily done~"

While it did not think much of his upgrade, it nevertheless prepared through an act of overclocking to the point of boiling before it charged him. The machine was blisteringly fast, and left a plume of fire caused by sheer friction and a sonic boom in its wake, and aimed to skewer him through the chest in one go.

Yet, to Ultimo it appeared as though it moved in slow motion.

Easily he wrapped a gauntlet around the offending appendage and pulled on it so the machine was overbalanced and fell toward him, and in the resulting closeness between them dealt a punch of his own to its middle. Empowered by his improved Noh, activated at a speed he could only have dreamed of previously, the fist reached his enemy much faster than it could ever hope to avoid.

It nevertheless tried.

It made at least a fair attempt, "Grrraaaahhhh!"

But there was nothing it could do.

The scarlet dôji landed his attack, which aside from its speed was not imbued with much of his strength. Little enough of it in fact that he earned an expression of steep perplexity. "My win." he daintily smiled.

It did not even manage a retort as it with a complete lack of dramatics crumbled into a pile of dust at his feet.

Ultimo watched its demise until it was fully reduced to a formless mass before he looked up to Jealousy who had been so worried about him, and the Councilors who had been rendered quite speechless. "Um, well, apologies for all of that… for making you worry." he softly conveyed, scratching the back of his head, "Now if you excuse me for just a moment, I need to go play janitor~"

* * *

 _Author notes_ : I envisioned this chapter differently, but eh, I'm satisfied with the outcome of it. Otherwise, this chapter could have come out a week or more ago if it was not for games like Frostpunk, They are Billions, and not to mention an email that gave me access to the BFA beta.

Answer to comments:

WarFlower: Thank you for the review. Glad you enjoyed the chapter.

Hornofdesolation: Thank you!


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